Legacy of the Force: You Were My Brother
by Dash Nolan
Summary: After Darth Caedus wins the Battle of Kashyyyk, he now must embrace his new role as the galaxy's leader, all the while fending off those he once held dear. [[LOTF AU, Jacen, Jaina, Zekk, more - Action]]
1. Chapter 1

You Were My Brother

By Dash Nolan

Part I

"You were my brother!"

"I still am."

The cloaked figure continued his slow progress forward, each instinctively-measured step resounding against the metal grating beneath. Behind him, through the floor-to-ceiling glass, flashes of green and red shot by like comets, often colliding with crackling layers of blue. Flaming hulks of metal soared to-and-from the direction of the bridge, sometimes falling to pieces, sometimes colliding into the hull below. The impacts were insignificant, the momentum of the _Strident_-class Star Defender enough to simply brush aside such collisions. The Confederate gunners had been hand-picked by their commanding officers, and the ship's captain was certain in their ability to swat away any threat to his flagship.

"No you're not! You're nothing like the boy I looked after on Yavin, collecting his animals and studying the life around him. He was one with everything in the galaxy; he was full of compassion and empathy."

The cloaked figure stopped in his tracks. She was unable to tell whether it was by design or if he was physically reacting to the scathing remark. She had no idea what hold she, as his sister, still had on him. Had he brushed their years protecting one-another aside, or did a small glint of connection still glimmer in the dark depths of what he had become?

"That boy was a stepping stone," the hooded man said as he resumed his procession. "It was one of many that lead to my formation. Do you claim to have seen every side of me; every day of my life? Did you see the vision that kept the Chiss and Killiks from destroying each other? Did you nearly cripple the only person you've consistently cared about your entire life? Don't presume to know my entirety, Jaina."

Jaina had to step back, her heart having grown so heavy that it threatened to put the Jedi on her knees. She simply couldn't grasp how her brother had grown so cold. Jaina's mind was racing, searching desperately for some sort of reason behind the transformation, making her question whether she had, in some way, contributed to it.

"So, Jacen was just another link in the chain." It was only partially a question. "So every minute we spent together, teaching each other, fighting together, is now just a piece of Darth…"

She knew his new Sith title, but she wanted to hear him say it. Some part of her needed the words to come from his mouth to finally believe them.

"Caedus. And until that strike on the Chiss shipyard, you had done nothing that would send me down this path. You were good to me, if not a little constricting."

Jaina's mind easily recalled the assault. After having foreseen a catastrophic war, Jacen had convinced her and a few other Jedi to launch a pre-emptive assault on a shipyard in order to force one side's hand. While it had, in fact, prevented a major war, her brother's brazen disrespect for the lives of the yard's workers during what was supposed to be a casualty-free action had caught her off-guard. It was a direct betrayal of her respect and love. And it was, as she could now see, the beginning of the end of Jacen Solo.

"You fired on me, mom, and dad at Hapes, and you tried your best to corrupt our young cousin just as yourself." Jaina continued to choose her words carefully so as to signify their familial bond.

Caedus stopped once more, now a mere six or seven meters from his sister.

"Han and Leia did what they felt was right restoring peace to their galaxy," His voice was calm and collected, bordering on condescending. "And I am doing what I feel is right to restore peace to mine."

In the background, a Galactic Alliance X-Wing took a concussion missile to one of its starboard engines and erupted in a cascade of red plasma and blue lightning. A TIE Interceptor with green markings running along its wings soared through the fading ball of flame, an A-Wing hot on its tail. The center of battle was slowly-but-surely shifting further away from Coruscant. The first clashes had erupted mere kilometers outside the world's outer atmosphere, but as a result of Darth Caedus' direct control over the fleet, the assaulting forces were being pushed back toward their original jump-in locations.

"Your galaxy?"

"If the congress and statesmen cannot agree, then someone shall move into a position to make them agree. Someone wise; someone just."

"Those aren't your words," Jaina was certain of it, but couldn't place where she had heard it before.

Once again, her words had been carefully chosen to avoid showing Jacen that he knew more than she did. Unfortunately, it seemed like her feelings had betrayed her anyway. She could feel the invisible tendrils of Force finding their way into the outer layers of her consciousness, dancing across her most visible of emotions and grasping at words before she thought of them. Without any outward signs, Jaina drew upon just enough Force to shield her cognitive mind from the invasive motions.

Darth Caedus' lips betrayed a smirk.

"They're the words of my predecessor, Anakin Sky-"

"Vader," His sister shot in.

Caedus' smile shifted from arrogant to calm wisdom. "Yes, eventually he did take on his Sith mantle, just as I have now."

Jaina shifted into a ready stance as subtly as she could. "Vader died just after one last act of redemption. I can only hope you have the same luxury."


	2. Chapter 2

You Were My Brother

By Dashren Nolan

Part 2

"Vader died just after one last act of redemption. I can only hope you have the same luxury."

Despite every ounce of strength she had, her voice still managed to falter at the tail end of the statement. Everything around her, between the cold steel walls of the Command Chamber, to the battle raging just outside, had a layer of surrealism that she was unable to push aside. It was all rushing back to her: Every memory she held dear, every moment that defined who she was, every battle that put her one step closer to the unseen Force. And as she saw every convergence of her life with the world around her, she realized that hardly one had gone by without Jacen there.

After the Emperor's death inside the second Death Star, the Galactic Empire shattered into various War Lord-controlled factions, some allied, others in constant territorial wars. One of them called itself the Second Imperium and was spearheaded by the Shadow Academy. This new force was exactly what was needed to defeat the rising Rebel Alliance after such a great victory. However, the Solo twins had been there to stop them and their leader, Brakiss. How these two could've shared such a victory then, only to be facing one-another down now, simply seemed impossible to Jaina.

Her lips shifted ever-so-slightly, the first signs of approaching tears.

"I really don't want it to come to this, Jaina. You're still dear to me," Caedus said, allowing a bit of honesty to slip into his coldly-calm voice.

As he spoke, he pushed back the dark hood past his head, finally allowing the white ceiling lights to illuminate his face. Jacen had always been fairly attractive for a Human male, inheriting both the elegance of Leia Organa and the roguishness of Han Solo. As he had aged from his days at the Yavin VIII Jedi Academy, he had gradually shifted from almost effeminate to rugged and war-scarred.

However, from what Jaina could see now, it seemed the past year had aged him a decade-and-a-half. His jaw bone had never been as expressed as it was now, his skin had taken on a sickly-yellow tone, and the creases beneath his eyes were growing heavy. However, what struck her the most were his venom-yellow eyes. She could only assume they had been warped into such a color through the constant abuse of the Force.

"Is that Jacen saying that, or Caedus?"

"Jacen, of course," His response came, though a bit too quickly.

Jaina paused before her next question, allowing the living Force to course through her veins and calm her nerves.

"And whose Lightsaber is hanging at your hip?"

It was Caedus' turn to take a hit; the calm smile quickly disappeared and was replaced with the same scowl Jaina had always associated with Jacen not getting what he expected. The Jedi pilot could feel the Force swell around her brother, forming the first layer of a Jedi's awareness bubble. This meant that if Jaina were going to attack, Caedus would be ready for it just a moment before.

"Jaina, look around you," Darth Caedus waved his arm toward the battle behind him.

As if on cue, what appeared to be a Confederation Star Destroyer took a volley of concussion missiles to the face of its bridge tower. As the fire cleared, a train of bodies began to tumble out of the open crater that was once the main bridge viewport. The ship was now all but crippled. It was a toss-up whether or not it would descend into the planet surface below.

"The insurrection is over. I've utilized all the resources the galaxy has to offer and have restored it to peace," Though his words were grandiose, his voice was still just as calm and collected as ever. "We're about to see a new age of glory for the Galactic Alliance. In fact, I have to thank you."

"Oh?" Honest surprise found its way into her response.

"Yes. Thanks to the Corellian rebellion, the resulting Alliance victory will unify the galaxy like nothing before. A clear leader, a clear flag, a clear military, and a clear future…"

Had Jaina been willing to end the fight before it began, then would have been the moment. With his eyes watching the blazing engagement and a Jedi cloak separating his hand from his Lightsaber, Jaina could've summoned just enough speed to put her bright violet blade through his chest before he could defend himself.

But then she sensed something rustle in the Force, and she realized that Caedus was well-aware of this apparent weakness. The Sith Lord had established a link through the Force with one of the larger hanging lights between himself and Jaina. Had she gone for the kill, the high-intensity bulb would've smashed across her face and, in all probability, shocked her into unconsciousness.

"How did you get up here?"

The question caught Jaina off-guard. Instinctively, her gaze drifted down to the Galactic Alliance squadron mechanic jumpsuit she had grabbed a few minutes after the stolen _Lambda-_class shuttle had dropped her off in one of the lower hangars. Her mind continued to recall the rest of the quest to the observation deck, which could be summarized in a series of Force persuasion tricks and running by already-confused GA security rounds.

And unlocked doors. Even for a ship in the heat of battle, a time when every man and woman onboard has to get somewhere, Jaina remembered noting how there was an unusual amount of unlocked doors throughout the command tower.

Then it clicked.

"You knew I was coming." The statement came out as though Jaina had known it all along.

Caedus flashed a sympathetic smirk. "Knew you were coming? Jaina, I practically invited you. My gunners were about to blast you and Zekk out of the…"

Hearing Darth Caedus speak Zekk's name reestablished the little bits of surrealism Jaina had managed to shove through up until that point. After leaving the Academy on Yavin, Jacen and Zekk had little-to-no contact, their only communication often a direct result of sharing a Jedi mission. She had never been sure what her brother thought of him, though the irony of her falling in love with an ex-Dark Jedi was quickly becoming apparent.

Jaina finally noticed that her brother had stopped talking, and she looked up to see that he was staring at her with curiosity.

"Where is he now, if you don't mind me asking?"

The daughter of Han Solo knew better than to fall for such a gambit. Jacen, better than anyone in the new line of Jedi, had mastered the art of mental intrusion. And she knew, just as the latest Dark Lord did, that if she were to fall, her lover was the best chance at taking Caedus down. At least, considering Kyle Katarn was now out of the picture.

And it was in that moment, having caught Darth Caedus in his own web of treachery, that Jaina finally realized that her brother could not be saved.

"He's right where he needs to be to play his part in your downfall."

At this point in his life, Jacen betrayed little-to-no emotion in his face. So when Jaina saw that familiar burst of surprise flow across her brother's face, she knew that _he_ knew the conclusion she had come to.

Jaina Solo felt that it was time to show her teeth; to show her last brother that she was not afraid. If there were ever going to be a threat in the universe that would scare her more than anything else, it would be the thought of facing her own brother in a fight that could only end in death.

The familiar sound of a lightsaber's _snap-hiss_ echoed in the empty observation chamber.

"I love you, brother."


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

A soft purple glow spread across the dark gray jumpsuit, turning it to a muddled brown and her hand to an alien violet. The vibrant color stood out like a beacon, alive in some way, within the gray and silver observation deck. Various shades between white and black were now somehow menacing, the lightsaber's blade finally signifying the lack of color in the room. Despite the best of efforts, the beam twitched ever-so-slightly this way and that, Jaina Solo unable to still her hand entirely.

"Jaina, please," her brother spoke, his voice more condescending than concerned, "Don't do this."

The last of the Solo-born Jedi held her head high, a stiff determination surrounding her words. "I've yet to see a compelling reason why I shouldn't."

"I'm your brother?"

She shook her head. "Anakin and Jacen were my brothers. One was killed doing his duty, the other was apparently just a stone worn away by time."

As her last few syllables came forth, Jaina brought her other hand around and grasped the previously untouched portion of the lightsaber's hilt. Her left foot moved in front of the other, giving Caedus a good look of her left shoulder.

A nearly-invisible trail of moisture on each of Jaina's cheeks glistened in the artificial light, but she refused to grant her brother the privilege of seeing her wipe the tears from her eyes. Tapping into the same line of Force that had stilled her nerves a moment before, she now allowed it to reach her eyes, the invisible tendrils of pure life caressing her face and lapping at her eyelashes.

The moisture on her face and within her eyes was gone.

"You use the Force to hide signs of natural human emotion," The Dark Lord's voice was offended. "And then accuse me of abusing it?"

Jaina chose to ignore the comment, knowing that it was only a ploy to distract her.

The air grew still, the only movement the unseen stir in the room's atmosphere that Jaina's lightsaber was creating. The room had fallen eerily silent, the muffled booms of ships blasting the spit out of each other having long-since faded. Jaina desperately wanted to bend her knees, allow her eyes to loosen, and enter a true fighting stance. But her mind –or was it her heart?- simply wouldn't allow it. She realized now that he would have to make the first move before her entire being was ready to take a blade to her own brother.

"_Lord, the Confederation forces have begun to retreat out of system." _The tinny and static-tinted voice of an older male human sounded from somewhere beneath Caedus' robe. _"If we don'__t follow soon, they'll escape our projectors and likely jump into hyperspace."_

Darth Caedus casually reached into the cloak and withdrew what looked like a large pen. Flipping an unseen switch along its shaft, he raised the device to his lips and spoke.

"Good work, Commander. Pursue without hesitation, fire at will. Don't allow them to jump until their forces are completely unable of combat."

"_At once, my Lord," _The faceless officer replied, enthusiastically from the sounds of it.

Then Caedus seemed to hesitate, his eyes meeting Jaina's for the briefest of moments, and then spoke into the comlink once more.

"Commander?"

"_Yes, Lord Caedus?"_

"Is the _Millennium Falcon_ still in the air?"

"_Yes sir, and her threat to my fighters is becoming more apparent by __the minute."_

"I don't want the _Falcon_ shot down unless it begins to pose a direct threat to the capitol ships. Reroute entire squadrons; send out decoys, I don't care."

"_As you wish."_

Jaina's grip on her blade loosed slightly, the Dark Jedi's apparent sympathy toward their parents both confusing and infuriating.

"What," Jaina said, almost shouting. "Am I supposed to suddenly see you as righteous and swear allegiance to your cause?"

"No, you're supposed to be off-guard."

She began to respond with a confused "What", but the Force was screaming at her to move. Jaina launched herself into a roll, extending her lightsaber in Caedus' direction so as not to impale herself during the movement. Less than a half-second later, a lighting fixture the size of an astromech droid crashed into the ground where she had been.

The floor beneath dented and sheared, hundreds of invisible shards of glass shot into the air, the light housing crumpled and bounced back upward, and the thick wiring the light had been attached to sparked and crackled across the ceiling. As the debris and smoke left the air, and the room became that much darker, Jaina Solo was finally settled on the fact that she, should it take her minutes or years, was going to kill Darth Caedus.

Time slowed as Jaina leapt, sending every ounce of her strength into her legs and propelling herself across ten meters with the ferocious grace of a nexu predator. As her lightsaber came within a dozen steps of his eyes, Caedus' lightsaber shot from its home on his belt and into his right hand. A crimson aura burst across the walls and glass as the Dark Lord's lightsaber activated, its red blade immediately meeting Jaina's purple.

She seemed to hang there for long moments, the constant noise of clashing energy currents growing in volume and a thin trail of smoke rising from the intersection of the blades. Then, before she had a chance to remove the column of concentrated Force keeping her elevated, Caedus stepped forward and shoved Jaina and her lightsaber back to the ground through the sheer strength of his right arm. The blades separated and the smoke disappeared, the only sounds in the room a balance of Jaina's labored breathing and the dual hum of two lightsabers.

Just as she was recovering from the shocking display of raw strength, Darth Caedus rushed forward, his blade above his head. Jaina had just enough time to bring her 'saber up in a horizontal block before the glowing red blade came crashing down. She managed to carry Caedus' blade around in a stunted arc before parrying it to her left, rising into a full fighting stance at the same time. From where it was, Jaina was in a perfect position to throw her entire body into a strong horizontal swing, but she knew he'd be expecting that. Instead, Jaina lowered on her knees and swung for Caedus' ankles. He had little choice but to take a step back and bright his lightsaber down in an unsteady block. Just as the beams of light met, Jaina rose back to her feet and began a series of alternating strikes aimed at the Dark Jedi's shoulders.

This time, he didn't even have to give up ground as he deftly blocked each light blow. As the fifth strike came down, Jacen once again displayed frightening amounts of strength and parried Jaina's blade to his right, continuing the motion into a spin that brought his blade around in a powerful strike at his sister's waist. Jaina had plenty of time to bring up her lightsaber and block the vicious strike, but the sheer momentum behind the blow forced her boots an inch across the metal floor. Caedus stepped forward and brought his saber around in an overhead strike, which he followed up with another slash at her ribs, and a strike at her shoulder after that. With each swing, the Dark Lord took a step, leaving his sister little choice but to step backward to defend every time he swung.

The distance between her back and the wall behind her was closing quickly.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

Jaina gathered all the might that she could muster in such a short window of time, and swung her lightsaber at the exact spot where an outside, though familiar force was telling her to defend. Having trusted the Force, her bright violet blade crashed into her brother's vibrant red lightsaber with just as much momentum as he had attacked her with. Since neither was prepared for the resulting impact, both combatants were knocked out of position.

The daughter of Han Solo took that moment to step back and gather both her breath and the focus she had lost in the flurry of strikes Darth Caedus had thrown at her upper body. Never before had the so-called "Sword of the Jedi" faced such a foe. She had stricken down many gifted adversaries, a good portion of which were more powerful than her in combat. The only way to win against such warriors, Jaina knew well, was to use their strength, and often arrogance against itself.

But as the soreness began to lap at her muscles, the unfortunate fallibility of the human body already making itself known, Jaina Solo had become painfully aware that no such weakness existed on Darth Caedus. This was because of the fact that he knew the combat style and strategy of every creature in the galaxy that might stand even a moderate threat to him. Most of these aforementioned threats were Jedi, the training of which Jacen had either been a part of or personally overseen in some way. For the potential adversaries that Darth Caedus hadn't witnessed the education of, his skill in mental invasion and manipulation would be more than enough to be ready for any attack coming his way.

"You know you can't win," Caedus spoke, his voice nearly as calm as before the first attacks had been made. "This is foolish of you, sister."

Jaina tossed her hair over her shoulder, sending the first of what would be many beads of sweat into the air. "You _were_ always the smarter one!"

She then brought her 'saber back in what looked like a wind-up to a powerful horizontal slash, but instead swiftly shifted her wrists, directed the point of the blade at her brother's stomach, and thrust. Darth Caedus cast the approaching beam of violet away with ease, but Jaina immediately shifted into a clockwise spin and allowed the momentum of Darth Caedus' parry to carry into her spin. She couldn't tell if he had been expecting the move as he brought his lightsaber around to block the strike, his face betraying neither worry nor confidence. Jaina's blade had barely touched her brother's before she brought it around in an upper strike, which he blocked as well.

She struck at his right shoulder now. He met her blade. Now at his left shoulder. He met her blade. Bringing her lightsaber down in a quick arc, she struck at his left knee. He met her blade. The Dark Lord had yet to use his left arm for anything other than counter-balance.

Taking the initiative, Caedus pushed her blade aside and allowed the momentum to carry his crimson blade around, over his head and toward his sister's face. Once again, Jaina had to take a step back to grant herself enough time to defend against the vicious attack. There was now a mere three meters between her back and the room's door. It was safe to assume Jacen had programmed it to lock once she had entered.

Her brother launched into a surprisingly quick trio of strikes at her leading leg. With each block, Jaina's 'saber wavered a notable amount to compensate for the sheer strength behind each swing. As the third slash met her lightsaber mere inches from her knee, that same familiar voice in her mind shouted at her to leave her current position. Summoning a strength that was not her own, Jaina leapt to her left just as Darth Caedus' other hand finally rose from beneath his rippling cloak and opened palm-out. The door directly behind where she had been crumpled inward.

Without a moment's pause, as if he had known such a simple blow couldn't do Jaina Solo in, Caedus reeled back and hurled his lightsaber toward his sister. From her perspective, it looked as though he had launched a compact cyclonic storm of pure Force from the palm of his hand. Finally seeing the opportunity she had feared would never come, Jaina used the leverage of her crouching position to launch herself and flip over the glowing rose disc. Landing on her feet with surprising grace, she gathered the living Force behind her and launched into a sprint, lightsaber ready.

She had just enough time to register Darth Caedus' gloved right hand appear centimeters away from her face before she was suddenly in the air, and just as suddenly her spine made solid contact with metal. The air rushed from her body and every muscle she could still feel extended and contracted without her consent.

Jaina couldn't tell if she was still breathing or not, her entire mind caught up in the cacophonous noise reverberating through her head. Vertigo had taken over, and she wasn't sure if she should be trying to keep her balance or if she was already on the floor. She summoned the strength to look up, only to find that the room's artificial lighting had taken on a burning intensity. Before she had to close her eyes again, Jaina had snatched a quick look at the room around her. It was still the same command observation deck, but now it seemed nearly three times as large. If her fingers and toes were still intact, she certainly couldn't feel, much less control them. She was beginning to question whether they had ever been there in the first place.

As the ringing began to give way to a spear-like pain above the tip of her spine and between her shoulder blades, her ears picked up a dull, slow thumping. It was precise and increasing in volume, leading her to believe it was her heart finally catching up to the rest of her body. As it became clearer, she noticed a metal hint to the beats, and by the eighth pound, she realized it was actually the sound of boots hitting steel floor.

And then every ounce of mental strength she had reined back from the bottomless depths was captivated by the signature sound of an activating lightsaber, followed by an intense red light, brighter than any star she had ever flown by, penetrating her closed eyelids. She didn't dare open them, for fear she be blinded.

"Don't… you will always… stop. Try… _Falcon_, not to… stay…" Her brother was speaking to her, but between the dull ringing in her ears and the overwhelming pain piercing her skull, what she could pick up was fragmented. After a few moments of silence, the same sounds of boots striking metal began again, but quickly grew quiet. She assumed he was now by the room's massive glass viewport.

Jaina, recalling her most basic of Jedi training exercises, tried to forget about the world around her. Focusing upon her breathing and touch of her clothes upon her skin, what she could sense and feel of the room began to disappear. Suddenly, the pain in her head and back weren't overwhelming and frightening, but basic bodily reactions to the otherwise minor damage her physical self had received. And she remembered that it was just that: a physical reaction to a physical problem. She was not just a physical entity; she was not just a shaken brain and a bruised spine. Jaina Solo remembered that she was a luminous being, even more-so with the Force on her side.

And suddenly the pain was gone, a vague weariness the only symptoms still left of what any medic would surely diagnose as a major concussion and significant spinal trauma. As feeling finally returned to her hands and feet, Jaina found her lightsaber still firmly within her grasp.


	5. Chapter 5: Invincible

Part 5: Invincible

Darth Caedus calmly summoned his lightsaber back into his grasp and stepped over to watch as Jaina's arms and legs jerked wildly for a moment before falling still. His eyes ran over what he could see of Jaina's moisture-covered face. Her eyes were tightly closed, her lips had frozen in a pained grimace, and an insignificant trail of spittle had escaped the right edge of her mouth. The Dark Lord knew full-well that she was still alive; her presence in the Force was still a beacon he could've sensed from Coruscant's surface. Her lightsaber remained in her right hand, the tip of its purple blade slowly melting a hole through the metal bulkhead her body had just struck. Jacen's right hand twitched and the blade disappeared. Though he could feel that her mind was still very much active, its connection to the rest of her body seemed minimal at best. Without hesitation, he brought his active red lightsaber over and paused the beam's tip mere centimeters from Jaina's face. She didn't move.

It was very possible that she had fell into a coma, but Jacen had a feeling his sister could still hear him; could still feel his presence close-by.

"Please don't put me in that position again, sister. You will always end up on the ground, so your only choices at this point are to become one with the Force, or stop. Try not to worry about those aboard the _Falcon_; not to worry about Zekk or Uncle Luke. Stay where you are for now," He paused, taking a heavy breath. "And I promise everything will be alright.

For the briefest of moments, through his sour yellow irises and premature age creases, his eyes betrayed what looked like honest brotherly concern. It was gone, had it even been that, just as quickly.

He turned away, the same cloak he had worn to both his Aunt's murder and funeral billowing above his sister's prone form. Though his pride wouldn't allow it, the battle had taken a heavy toll on his heart. He had told Lumiya he was ready; he had told her that he had severed all ties except those to the Sith definition of the "greater good". But still, a weight was tugging at his heart, and it grew exponentially heavier with every step he took toward the wall-sized viewport.

He stopped as the floor left his vision and he grew close enough to the transparisteel for the space outside to appear to envelop him. What lay before him could be summed up in one word: Victory. While all but two of his capitol ships and a good portion of his fighter squadrons were still flying and firing, he could only spot three Confederation Star Destroyers. What was left of the Corellian fighter ships were too few and far-between to form much more than a single squadron. He reached into the Force, and was immediately struck with two clear, radiating emotions. The first was pride, a loud and very human feeling that seemed to surround him just as his fleet did. The second, though a bit louder, was fear.

No doubt having heard about the camps of Corellians who had been on Coruscant when Jacen Solo had taken control of the planet's security, the remaining Confederation pilots and crewmen had almost completely dropped any belief that they could pull out a win. They were now simply fighting for their lives, a task that was growing increasingly difficult with each volley of turret fire and missiles. Every creature had their limit; a point at which they were simply unable to keep going. Darth Caedus knew that point was swiftly approaching those it hadn't already found.

A distinct flash of bright blue came from the closest Corellian Star Destroyer as its shields finally fell away. The blue gave way to reds and oranges and yellows as the craft took its first series of direct hits, and that presence of fear in the living Force spiked.

And then something changed. No longer was he able to sense the amalgamation of feelings permeating the battlefield. His entire awareness of the Force, of its subtleties and graces, was being pulled by its hair in the direction of where he had left his sister. Turning on unsteady heels, Caedus found his sister's body rising like a marionette on strings, a soft turquoise aura emanating from her upper body. He knew the glow wasn't there and that she had simply risen from her knees, but his mind had stopped viewing things in literal terms ages ago. Now he saw in almost nothing but metaphors in the Force, and his eyes were showing what his mind didn't like in the least.

"I asked you to stay where you were," He said, almost gaining back his signature coldness.

Jaina tensed her neck and tilted her head to the left, then to the right, then moved her shoulders in small circles and spoke. "And I declined."

Jaina Solo's words were thick with disrespect, and they struck a chord within her brother. His eyes narrowed and his scarred lips showed a disgusted scowl. Jacen had sacrificed millions of lives, including his beloved Aunt and, more or less, his own, to secure peace for the galaxy at large. He had cast aside his bride-to-be, their beautiful daughter, his family and friends, and everything he knew, so that the billions upon billions of other sentient beings would wake up alive next month. Yet here his sister stood, speaking to him as though he had not grown a day since his days on Yavin VIII. What little was left of Jacen's concern for his beloved sister was quickly buried by pure rage.

Darth Caedus broke into a run, his right arm stretched across his torso and the crimson glowing blade flowing from it trailing behind him. Jaina spread her feet to shoulder length and calmly turned her wrist into a more comfortable position, but otherwise did not move. The Sith drew to a stop before her and threw the run's momentum into a tremendous horizontal slash and Jaina's ribs. Had she attempted to block it, she would've either been cast aside or cut upon by her own blade. Instead, she simply ducked and the crimson 'saber soared over her head harmlessly. There wasn't enough space to bring her own weapon around in a strike, so she settled for shifting her weight and throwing a solid kick into her brother's right shin. The leather of his authoritative boots didn't absorb much of the blow, and she could almost feel the bone within crack. It wasn't completely broken, she admitted to herself, but it would keep him off his game.

Unfortunately it seemed that the Dark Lord didn't even notice as he brought his blade around in a slash straight down toward her head. Just as his lightsaber began to carve an orange gash down the wall behind her, Jaina rolled away and quickly stood. The carving in the durasteel bulkhead was still glowing as Jacen stepped forward and swung up at her pelvis. Jaina blocked the relatively light blow, but it was followed by another at her hip, then her shoulder, then her face, then back at her chest, which she was able to push aside. She struck quickly, each swing only meant to distract and occupy her brother. He still gripped his lightsaber with only one hand, and was obviously trying to parry each strike far enough to shift the momentum back in his favor, but every time, his sister would simply use the energy and carry it into her next blow.

Jaina carried Caedus' block into a spin, bringing her saber down and around for a broad upper-cutting swing, but the Dark Lord finally saw his opening and stepped back to avoid the attack. Jaina was caught out of step and off-balance, which Jacen took as an invitation to reel back and thrust at her stomach. With little options before her, Jaina simply drew the Force into her weary legs and leaped backwards in an awkward spin-flip. She was able to catch herself mid-air and deactivate her lightsaber so as not to "disarm" herself, and landed on all fours. However, she was forced to immediately roll away as Jacen stepped forward and brought his 'saber down where she had been. He simply continued to drag the red blade across the floor, chasing her as she continued to roll. As her body completed another full rotation, Jaina drew the Force around her into the palm of her hand. In the same moment, she stopped on her stomach, reached up at her brother, and released everything she had. The wave of unstoppable, invisible energy slammed into Caedus and sent him spinning to the floor.

The Sword of the Jedi rolled forward and continued toward her brother on her feet, the vibrant purple blade ready to strike down. Caedus, now on his stomach and facing away from his sister, rose to his hands and knees. His baser instincts were telling him to get to his feet and defend himself, but instead he paused for just a moment, for he knew that immediate reaction was exactly what his sister was expecting. Just as Jaina slowed and brought her saber downward at her brother, he suddenly rose and spun, bringing his 'saber around in an extended upward slash. Feeling the millisecond resistance of his blade cleaving through something, Darth Caedus continued the spinning motion, adjusting his lightsaber, and finished the rotation by throwing all of the momentum into a powerful thrust.


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

A small cluster of capitol and fighter craft about a moon's distance from the central planet of the known galaxy, Coruscant, sat in space. Various portions of each ship were elongated and warped forward, unseen fuselages and cockpits now light years away while their accompanying thrusters and hangars remained, waiting that awkward millisecond to catch up. Like glowing beads strung on a spider's web of invisible threads, meter-long beams of green and red seemed ready to converge on the retreating force. A blanket of torn metal and shattered transparisteel covered what was now a hunt, as opposed to a battle.

The field of debris was so thick that several of the smaller Confederation ships had been torn apart by chunks of dead craft while attempting to retreat. Some Galactic Alliance gunners had shifted from killing mobile targets to blasting immobile ones out of the way. Strewn throughout the destruction, as though toy soldiers amidst construction kits, bodies of various sizes and shapes rested motionlessly. Most of the dead still retained their entire physical forms, their lives having been taken by sudden decompression.

And attached to each lost life was another strand; both invisible and in plain sight. A pattern of these strings crisscrossed throughout the battlefield, and everything from cannon fire and blaster shots to hulks of dead ships and bodies seemed to be convergence points.

With streams of blaster fire still in the black of space, chunks of scrap stuck to the blue discs of shield energy reacting to them, and the remainder of the Corellian Confederation frozen mid-jump, space seemed to have come to a halt. The galaxy was frozen in motion, as though having just realized something. The Force, and everything it touched whether it knew it or not, was mourning a loss. This loss was so significant and so far-reaching to the breathing energy that bound the universe together that it had to take a minute to catch its proverbial breath.

A lone Galactic Alliance _Strident_-class Star Defender sat a few hundred kilometers behind the rest of its forces, its massive banks of thrusters still projecting a soft blue aura. Approximately midway along the craft's bulbous topside, a tear-shaped observation and command unit rested atop a short tower. Across the front of this unit stretched a transparisteel viewport many meters wide and a story tall. Through this window was a mostly empty room, the only features of note being a crumpled light housing in one corner of the floor, a warped door in the far back, and two human adults, a male and female, in the center.

The woman wore an expression of extreme sadness and pain, an even mix physical and emotional. A sparking cylinder of exposed electronics was grasped loosely in the remaining half of her right hand. Between her shoulder blades, just below where her sweat-coated auburn hair ended, a beam of glowing crimson jutted out of the Jedi's gray jumpsuit.

Two invisible threads, like those interwoven in the silent battlefield outside, began at the point where the lightsaber had pierced the woman. One of them ended in a conspicuous shadow in one of the observation tower's elevator shafts, while the other stretched for thousands of lightyears across hundreds of star systems, finally ending just outside the snowy-white ball of the planet Bespin. At that point, amidst a couple of dozen other ships of varying size and shape, floated the _Millennium Falcon._

Within the cockpit of a disc-shaped light freighter sat an older human couple. The man in the pilot seat, in his off-white shirt and black vest, showed a look of anger and confusion. The woman beside him, her gray hair in a loose bun and an elegant lightsaber hilt at her waist, held the same pained expression as that of the younger woman in the _Strident_-class Star Defender.

"What just happened," the older man asked. His words were shallow, as if he had just taken a kick to the stomach. "Not the battle, I mean, but…"

He trailed off, his eyes completely out of focus. Beside him, his wife spoke, the emotion in her words as empty as her husband's lungs.

"She's dead."

The man, famed smuggler and pilot Han Solo, turned toward his wife, Leia Organa Solo. His eyes still hadn't found focus and a tiny crack appeared between his lips. He looked as though a thought had been plucked straight out of his mind. After a second, he started to say "Who," but it came out as a simple incoherent sound and trailed off. Han stared at his wife for a few seconds longer before joining her in staring off into the void of space.

The crushed look on Leia's face was not what had stopped Han in the middle of coordinating the next phase of their retreat. Instead, it was an inexplicable weight suddenly forming within his gut that had throttled his conscious thought. The heaviness had begun in his emotions; a depression so deep that he didn't think there could be anything in the universe that could justify it. It quickly moved into his stomach, which now felt as though an X-Wing had crash landed into it.

But now, hearing his wife's words, Han realized exactly why he suddenly felt like curling up in a ball in the _Falcon_'s cargo hold for the rest of his natural life.

Voices, angry and afraid, were pouring through the ship's comm unit, but Han didn't hear a word of it. Every bit of his mental capacity was swirling with various images: his daughter's scream as a _Lambda_-class shuttle explodes, a blaster bolt landing directly between her eyes, a viewport shattering and Jaina soaring out into open space, and other gruesome scenes that steadily decayed his mental state toward utter rage.

Meanwhile, two feet to his right, Leia Solo clutched the center of her chest with closed fists and tried desperately to breathe. She felt a burning hole just below her neck and could hear the faint but familiar sound of a lightsaber somewhere around her. Her vision had turned to nothing but shades of red.

In actuality, oxygen was flowing to and from her lungs at a quick, though not dangerous, rate. What she and, to a lesser extent, her husband were feeling was entirely the result of a Jedi's link through the Force with their immediate family. Only one other time had the two of them ever felt something so powerful, and they had cremated their second son's body a few weeks later.


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

Jaina felt nothing. It was a wonderful nothing, where neither the floor below nor the ceiling above nor the space outside mattered. It was the kind of nothing that you felt while stumbling out of a cantina at unholy hours in the morning; the kind of nothing that consumes every nerve in your body in a pleasantly mild fire that you're sure will pass by morning. Her heart had stopped, her blood vessels were expanding and contracting, and her organs were quickly losing their natural tension. Everything in her body was shutting down at a steady pace, and her melted trachea was preventing her from making any noise about it.

Jacen stood perfectly still, the metal hilt in his right hand vibrating lightly as his crimson blade ate away various microscopic pieces of his sister's chest. He was unable to shift from this position, the boy that had preserved itself within Darth Caedus' warped mind just before the Yuuzhan Vong war freezing his body in motion. This boy was an almost entirely separate entity. It had been around for a solid two decades now, making a soft noise every time Jacen considered sacrificing someone for what would later be called the "greater good". Sometimes it had been listened to, othertimes it was ignored.

Right now, this small shadow of Jacen Solo was shocked out of its shoes at what its physical host had done to the Sword of the Jedi. Jaina's lightsaber fell to the floor, its pink blade scorching several glowing marks into the metal floor before deactivating. The lava-like glow of Jacen's lightsaber became exponentially stronger and created a sphere of crimson around the siblings in the moderately-lit observation deck.

"No…"

The word escaped Caedus' lips, the sound raspy and unintentional. It was the sound of a rational mind catching up to the actions of a body running on instinct.

It was the sound of a brother realizing that he had just killed his sister.

The Sith Lord finally brought his eyes from the gaping lightsaber wound and up to meet his sisters'. He expected to see anger, rage, and possibly a silent plea for some as-of-yet unmastered Force ability that could bring her back from the brink of death. Instead, as his venom-tainted irises met the brown vortexes opposite, Darth Caedus found only pity. Despite having just taken her life, they both knew it, Jacen could tell that his sister felt nothing but absolute compassion for her fallen brother. He continued to stare into her eyes for several minutes, searching desperately for any emotion that would allow him a personal victory. Instead, all he could find was the message of "I'm sorry you couldn't make it."

He tried to be angry at her. He tried to be insulted and justify her murder. He tried to find some fleeting reason as to why his red blade was withdrawing from Jaina's chest cavity. No such explanation came, and it only made him that much angrier at the galaxy around him.

She was dead, and no one else had had killed her.

With every emotion racing around him, intensified into wild flame by his connection with the Force, the outside twinge of awareness was almost silent. Something powerful, a thing capable of destruction on any larger scale, always registers upon a Force-sensitive's senses. Had this particular radar blip not been quite as interesting, Jacen would have gone on spinning around in self loathing and rage. As it was, this entity was fairly strong.

The Sith Lord pivoted toward the room's door. His reflexes and Forse senses had snagged control of his legs. Jacen didn't know why he was looking at the door. He was still in mild shock. In his mind, the galaxy should have been dropping every last thing it was doing and explaining to him why his sister was dead.

Vision circled 'round, focus found its range. The pulsing of fury and confusion was pushed to the back of consciousness. It would remain there until after Jacen had an oppurtunity to release it, be it upon a series of doomed training droids or a weeks worth of dreams.

Jacen's focus returned, He shook his head, two pops of upper vertebrae followed. The dark lord stepped forward, and every string of muscle tightened and froze against his command. Apparently, he though, his body wasn't ready for the focus he needed to continue. Jacen shut his eyes tight, and focused the swirling energy around him, guiding into legs. A blossoming energy rushed from the tips of his hips, through his thighs, spiraled around his knees, shot through his calves, and exploded into his feet. Darth Caedus took a breath, and was ready as he had been upon stepping out of bed that morning.

The focus of energy was straight ahead of Jacen. By his guess, the source was taking the last step up the inside of his command ship's central turbolift. It wasn't using the lift, by his speed, but had been simply climbing and jumping between the various service ladders. The only thing on the lift's level was the Officer's Observation Tower. Focusing on the source of power, Jacen noticed something like a face. Whatever this was, it knew now that Jacen could now sense it. Its strength flickered, stayed, then began to fade. Jacen had recognized that source of energy thousands of times before.

Jedi.

Jacen was curious how this Jedi could tell he was sensing it. Caedus had long-since mastered the more probing Sith form of detection and reading. The technique was similar to the Jedi's, except that it was more focused and significantly less detectable by the Force-sensitive. Whatever Jacen was tracking had learned a very specific technique. Lord Caedus himself had spent the better part of two years learning to completely disguise himself amongst the even the most subtle twines of the Force. To be able to even tease the concept of true invisibility was noteworthy. There were only two significant sources of the ability to hide amongst the Force itself. One was the Yuuzahn Vong, a species that had taken the skill naturally and couldn't well teach it. The second were Jedi or Sith familiar with the new Force teachings. The only being still alive that Jacen knew was aware of the second option was his once-protige Ben. After a failed final Sith conversion, Ben had slipped back into the cadre of Jedi fools. The first two to rush to take Ben in were Jaina and her fiancé, Zekk.

Jaina was now dead.

The vague spherical source of energy bruned bright, and a beam extended from it. The source flashed twice, and Jacen knew the turbolift's doors were lying on the floor, glowing hot in pieces. He focused on the source once more, and it paused in its rush for the door to Caedus' observation room. It flickered and started to fade. The Sith focused his concentration, and the target's energy disappeared accordingly. He quickly eased his focus off, switching to a weaker view of the Force around him. The source stayed weak for a few seconds, then grew back in strength. A second later, it blossomed again, and it shot straight for the observation deck's door.


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8

Jacen smirked and whispered, "Hello, Zekk."

Within the same second, a single diagonal beam of burning red appeared in the metal doors, and the doors themselves burst open. A comet of beige cloth and blue energy rolled through. The rolling being came to a sudden halt upon one knee, arm extended. The air rustled as a solid ball of nothingness hurled toward Jacen. The Sith lazily gathered a specific amount of energy around his palm and caught the burst, held it, and released. The Force blast shot straight back at its source. The intruder hesitated for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Jacen to notice, before leaping to the side.

Three metal panels leapt from the floor, shrapnel and securing bolts jumping into the air. The source, now easily recognizable as Zekk, stared at the Commander with a very specific hatred.

The two stared at one another for long seconds. Lord Caedus could have broken the lock of glances with ease, but the older man of the Force was far too wrapped up in finally sharing a room with Jacen Solo. Jacen simply smirked as he always did, as he always would.

Zekk took a studied, careful step. Light fringes of tiny energy streams began to prick at his arms. He had heard of the sensation before, but had never felt it. Appropriate, considering no Jedi had ever felt it more than a single time.

Caedus stepped twice back, allowing himself plenty of time to study the way the Force surrounded and responded to his sister's widower. Sure that he had figured out the Force's reactions to the man before him, Jacen smiled softly and spoke. With each word, Caedus focused the Force upon his target, allowing the syllables to slap against Zekk like tropical winds.

"It's been a while, Zekk."

Zekk needed little more than to stare Darth Caedus in the eye to summon the strength and energy to summarily deflect the impressions Jacen placed upon is words. Zekk tried to smile as the Dark Lord did, failed, and finally smiled honestly at the comedy in their meeting.

"Yeah it has, Jace."

A sense of... something pushed at the back of Jacen's mind. Jacen took a good look at the man, and saw the masculine jaw and long black hair entering their temple, smiling sheepishly. The Sith watched the young man excel at lightsaber combat, clip a fellow student. Blood. Caedus saw an arena, heard the crowds shouting. They weren't crowds of giddy team followers, but simply focused bloodthirsty leaders. They were witnessing the selection of their new General. The young man with the black ponytail kicked against a wall, then a freefloating block, and swung. The crowd cheered. The ponytail raised his arms, victorious. This boy entering his observation Caedus' observation chamber had quite the history.

Jacen, Caedus, wanted to bombard Zekk with images from the past: The Jedi student's killing, wounds, and scars.

But the Dark Lord knew Zekk had arrived expecting this. He could feel it from Zekk's own mind, the older Jedi was ready for a battle of words and morals. Caedus decided there would be no such conflict.

"Zekk," Jacen said, "I saw you enter our temple, searching for redemption. I helped you find the Force proper. Yet you kill my men and burst in here, blade drawn. Who do you think I am?"

Zekk paused just enough for Jacen's tastes before responding. "You used to be Jacen, my friend. But now, yo-"

A tumbling form of metal and glass soared across the room. Zekk caught sight of it just soon enough to turn his body and drop. The flying weapon clipped Zekk across his ribs, tore cloth, flesh, and continued on. As the object slammed into the far wall, Zekk rose to his feet.

Zekk rolled along his side, away from Caedus. Pressing out arms and legs, he propelled himself into the air and clumsily ended the spin on his feet. As the rest of his body caught up and Zekk rose his head towards the Sith lord, a near wall of breaking air approached him at blinding speeds. Most of Zekk's conscious mind was stll swirling around the image of Jaina's dead body. He was acting on pure reflex as he began to gather living Force around the palm closest to the overwhelming explosion of energy. Zekk turned his body and shoved the energy-coated hand toward the Force blast, but both Jedi and Sith knew it was useless.

The impact occurred in stages, like one of the Republic's outer galactic research rockets. Zekk's fist met the oncoming wave, his rushed and light shield of Force bursting against the torrent with a visible flash of electric blue. Then the wave slammed into the older Jedi's actual limb. The impact sent a violent shockwave down his arm, finally crashing just before his elbow. Zekk's left radius cracked, splintered, and shattered.

Once again, Zekk was spinning. His mind spun with the scenery and for a moment, he felt the disorientation and dizziness reach for his consciousness. His stomach twinged, nausea reared its head. With each pass he caught sight of Jacen, easily recognizable as a figure of black and blade of glowing red. With each spin, now on his fifth, Zekk followed Caedus' slow but steady walk towards him.

His wife was dead on the floor. His escape ride was in a rusted Nebulon-B bay, long gone. The leader of his entire way, Skywalker, had been floating in blue for the past month.

He was tired. And then, just as suddenly, it was time to wake up.

Thrusting what he could gather into his feet, he threw his legs downward and hoped is timing was fair. Zekk's feet found floor, and the plating beneath them crumpled into craters immediately. The Force had apparently been kind. Zekk's boots touched metal lightly with him facing the Dark Lord. He looked up at Jacen. Jacen met his eyes with the same vague focus he had worn since the final stages of the Yuuzahn Vong war. Jacen flicked his eyes downward. Zekk followed the silent command, and saw that a vaguely ovular shape of red was growing within the beige of his tunic, around his right ribs.

Funny, Zekk thought, that he didn't feel it.


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9

Jacen flicked his eyes downward. Zekk followed the silent command, and saw that a vaguely ovular shape of red was growing within the beige of his tunic, around his right ribs.

Funny, Zekk thought, that he didn't feel it.

Zekk reached around his waist and drew out a drab and dirty cylinder of silver. Flicking a stub, the beam of pure energy erupted from Zekk's hilt. Caedus didn't react in the least. The Dark Lord continued to stare at Zekk, his smirk unending. Uncomfortable but unsure why, Zekk noticed that the blade coming from his own lightsaber hilt was red. His eyes stared at the crimson beam of energy for an extended second before nearly tossing the alien lightsaber away. The last time he had carried a red-bladed lightsaber, he was marching around in black armor and slaying other students.

Caedus continued to approach Zekk.

"Breathe." Zekk wasn't sure where the tip had come from. He trusted the Force like nothing else, but it had rarely touched him directly. Regardless, Zekk held the unfamiliar blade at arm's length and breathed deep. Zekk embraced the cool oxygen rushing through his system. It was an unfamliar air that seemed to fill every inch of his body. He flicked his right arm, and blade shook off its red coat of energy like a womp rat shaking away a rainstorm's water. Red sparks leapt into the air, faded away, and Zekk held his familiar blue blade.

Zekk matched Jacen's stare as the "Darth" shortened the distance between them. Caedus' smile faltered for the briefest second, then returned, then grew wider.

His sister's death aside, this was longest that Caedus had been surprised at something for many, many months. It was a momentary state. Usually, a solid blast of absolute certain Force could put any Jedi to his or hers knees. This wasn't untested. Jacen stopped a proper six meters from Zekk, still smiling.

"I suppose this is the last I'll see of you," Jacen said, feigning nostalgia.

"You can think that, sure." Zekk responded. Despite the spots of red forming on the left arm of his tunic, Zekk managed a smirk. "Be sure, this is the last time we'll see each other."

Amused, Jacen brought his lightsaber into a casual ready stance. "A shame, I would say. I stand here, the head of the new Sith movement, and yet the Darkest Knight stands against me." Jacen pause, allowing his smile to widen. "Well, not standing, but you know."

Every respectable human in galactic reach would have grimaced, twitched, and stepped away from a direct strike at their past. Zekk bared teeth, matching Caedus' smile.

"I've got you figured out, Jacen," Zekk said. His words were faultered only by the tiniest bit of nervousness. An excusable condition, to be sure.

"Oh?" Caedus asked. His eyes flicked between Zekk's cut face and the growing oval of red in the older Force-user's tunic. To Jacen, this wasn't a fight nearly as much as a game.

"Yep," Zekk continued. "The galaxy stopped making sense to you years ago. It stopped making sense about two or three years before the Vong hit the Outer Rim. You've just been playing dumb since."

He stepped toward Jacen. This was the closest a non-GAG officer had been to Caedus in many, many months. Jacen respected Zekk just enough to try and remember the earlier fights he spoke of: Voxyn leaping through the air, giant fangs dragging trails of dripping yellow saliva, the torqued teeth ripping flesh through solid cloth, red bursting from beneath.

Caedus's head twitched, his eye with it. Anger settled on his face, his brow creasing more than three times. "You don't know what happened there." Jacen looked at Zekk, his irises shrinking at an exceptional rate. "You..." Jacen stopped, laboring over his breath. "You don't know how they screamed."

Zekk had set the Sith up for a proper battle-opening response, something like "I'm sure I'll hear it from you soon." But as the older Jedi began to smile and deliver the zinger, Caedus loked toward him.

The observation room was fairly dark, the only light at that moment coming from stars and thrust bursts outside the many windows. Zekk himself knew his own eyes consisted of large irises with fractional rings of coloration. This was why, when Darth Caedus met Zekk's eyes, Zekk shifted back. The irises of Jacen's eyes had shrank to pin holes, leaving large circles of crackling red and yellow between shades of white.

Then Caedus leapt at Zekk, and the torrent began.

Caedus came down, both hands driving the red energy straight down at Zekk's face. Zekk gritted his teeth and braced for an impact that would shatter every bone in his forearms. It didn't come. The moment Jacen's blade met Zekk's it came around toward his left hip. Surprised, Zekk allowed the Force to guide his hands. The raging beams of energy collided, tiny sparks faded into the air. Using the block like a springboard, Caedus brought his lightsaber around over his own head and at Zekk's left ribs. Zekk shifted over, catching the blade like before. Caedus bounced off the Jedi's 'saber again, now bringing his own around and underneath. Zekk leaned forward and caught the strike with his crosswise beam.

Having met the red beam, Zekk looked up just in time to watch Jacen's forehead rush in. A violent knock, and Zekk stumbled back. The room span, metal fusing with black space. A small part of Zekk's mind knew that after having caught him off guard like this, he was ready for the Valley of the Jedi. Then he heard the silent voice again, and followed its advice without thought. "Hold right."

Zekk wildly swung his lightsaber right. Blue met red, and the two stayed locked for solid moments. Zekk arose from his stupor straight into Jacen's odd stare.

Jacen's face was the a battleground between his natural response of horrified shock and his need to appear in control of everything around him.

"You're," Caedus began, his left eye still twitching. "You're dead. That last strike killed you."

Not missing a beat, and still operating off of the last burst of the Force's high, Zekk shot back. "And you were a Jedi. Once."

Caedus regained control of his face and stared at Zekk for everlasting seconds. "Jedi?"

"You know, the ones with the blue and green glowrods."


	10. Chapter 10

You Were My Brother

By Dash Nolan

Part 10

Anyone else would have laughed. Jacen slipped his offhand from his saber hilt and punched Zekk across the face. Something snapped. Zekk stumbled to the floor, hands out. His jaw felt solid, but everytime it moved it felt like a fluid was filling a gap just below his ear. Zekk turned toward Jacen, but his vision followed at some kind of lag. He reached his arm out, but it missed the patch of floor twice before finally grabbing metal surface. The world was spinning around Zekk, and nausea was rushing up quickly.

A distorted voice bounced around within his head, "What did I just tell you? Breathe!" Zekk breathed.

And he began to feel better.

Again, it was as though more than air was rushing into his lungs. The room stopped spinning, the hard floor leveled under his feet. He could feel the weakness of fatigue attempting to weigh down his legs and arms, but another source was overpowering the tired structure. Zekk rose and brought his blue blade around. Caedus watched the man and his blade with focus, fascinated with the display. It wasn't right. Not a surge of power or Force torrent, Jacen felt, but something much more... elegant. Graceful. Suggestive.

Knowing.

Darth Caedus smirked. "I see you."

Zekk stopped, preoccupied with the odd actions of his old classmate, and happy to have a minute to let the Force touch upon his wounds.

"Kun," Jacen went on, turning around the room, "Jealous that I finally did what you could not? Yoda or Obi-Wan maybe? You two did good works, holding off the illegitimate Sith until our time was here. I respect that." He paused. "But it's not you."

Zekk spun his lightsaber threateningly twice with no result, realizing just how gone Caedus was.

"Or is it you, Jinn," Jacen said, stopping before the star-filled viewport wall. "You're not happy with any establishment. Force aside, a government's a government's a hinderance, huh? Once again, I respect that..."

A soft weight pulled against Zekk's mind. "Take him," it said. Zekk took a step to steady himself, beginning to associate the Force voice with something familiar. "You can distract him." He acknowledged the words, but still hesitated. "You can stop him," the voice insisted. Caedus stood and began walking toward Zekk, but the Sith Lord's head continued searching the ceiling.

"Kun? Droma? Which of you could have any interest in my sister's husb-" Jacen stopped. That familiar smirk found its way back to his lips.

Zekk's head tilted back and his eyelids drifted half-closed. Amongst all the death, it was beginning sense. It spoke to him again.

"You can stop him, love."

Jacen felt a hard shift, like the winds of a hurricane rushing past, as the Force soared into their small chamber. Lights flickered, glass rippled. desperately trying to understand the shockwaves of Force around him, Jacen never noticed the smile grow on Zekk's worn face. In point of fact, the first thing he noticed was the blue Ligthsaber beam coming across his chest.

Caedus stepped back and flicked his lightsaber before his body, catching Zekk's blade two inches from the Lord's pectorals. Jacen dipped and slipped under the strike, bringing his blade around and up into a rising strike at Zekk's entire right side. The older Force-user spun clockwise, slipping past the rising stike, and brought his saber down towards Jacen's head. Jacen stepped left and brought his blade around, catching the strike again. Jacen caught Zekk's eyes.

Caedus spoke through labored breahts "She's not as useful when she's outside a cockpit, is she?"

Zekk froze as he realized that what had taken him an entire fight to figure out, Jacen had pieced together in a mere moment. Less than a second into Zekk's concentration lapse, his blue blade still locked with red inches above Caedus' bangs, Caedus shot a straightened hand into Zekk's ribs. Bolts of lightning rushed through Zekk's nerves, and he stumbled back.

A limb open, a target, a reflex swing. Jacen's lightsaber swept across the top of Zekk's left thigh, batches of bursting red fluids ionizing into nothingness in the beam's wake.

Zekk fell hard to the floor. The metal plates forgave just as little as the massive stone blocks in his old training grounds, and his lower spine paid the price. Another shock, this one natural, shot up Zekk's spine. He threw his head back and yelled.

"No time, roll!"

Choking back the scream, Zekk rolled to his right. A blazing red beam swept across where his head had been.

"Back!"

Zekk tilted his blade outward and leaned in, kicked off, and rolled backwards. While lightsaber blades rarely gave off any sort of heat, melting composites like the ones in Zekk's boots did. He forced himself to ignore the dull pain from his heels.

"Good. Hold him."

"Hold?" Zekk looked up and asked, breathless. "Dodge something? Roll?"

Caedus walked toward Zekk, each step of the Sith Lord's boot deliberate, deafening. Zekk was radiating fear, and Caedus not only knew it, he was practically feeding off it. Jacen's smirk grew.

Zekk turned toward another corner of the room's roof. He pleaded. "Jaina?"

Jacen nodded knowingly, smiling obscenely. "She's gone, Jedi."


	11. Chapter 11

Part 11

Caedus walked toward Zekk, each step of the Sith Lord's boot deliberate, deafening. Zekk was radiating fear, and Caedus not only knew it, he was practically feeding off it. Jacen's smirk grew.

Zekk turned toward another corner of the room's roof. He pleaded. "Jaina?"

Jacen nodded knowingly, obscenely. "She's gone, Jedi."

Caedus' words echoed in the space left where the guiding voice had been. Focusing on that accepting section of his mind, that third ear, the Sith's words hit home immediately.

"_It was just another test, Jace," Jaina pleaded._

_Jaina sped her steps, trying to catch up to Jacen. Their collective steps echoed in the stone halls. Zekk knew that to follow them would be foolish and only involve him in complicated family matters. He stepped around the hall and followed cautiously. Watching the twins with silent curiosity, he took a quick step back and slipped into another room's entry hall as Jacen finally stopped and turned to face his sister._

"_Of course it was a test!" Jacen's composure was nearly gone, his hands solid fists. "You think I don't blasted know?"_

_The two stood nearly still for seconds, watching one another. Jacen looked away, his eyes following the lines of the large stones making up the wall. He took a breath and turned back to Jaina._

"_Sis, think about what we have. We can move buildings, rewrite memories, stop a blaster bolt before it's fired." Jacen stepped towards his sister, his right arm punctuating his points. "Then Luke stands there and talks about patience and understanding for fools that line up in squads and blast families. Men. Women." Jacen looked away, breathed quickly through his teeth. "Children. AT-ATs and battle Rancors..."_

_Zekk could immediately tell that Jacen was slipping into past fears, memories. He also caught Jaina picking up on the same thing. She wasn't crying, she wasn't stepping in to hug her brother. Her eyes remained stern._

"_You know this is how the galaxy works," she said. "If these people choose to fight for what they feel is right, their feelings must be grounded in something inte-"_

"_Crap!" Jacen shouted. "They fight for something, plenty of folk die, and we're worse off than when we woke up that morning. We can be stop all that!"_

_Jaina shook her head. Zekk heard Jacen choking back rushing breaths. Jaina raised her head and remained stately._

"_If we restrict their freedoms, we are no better than Palpatine. An alliance means choice, and we are the guardians of that choice."_

_Jacen stared at his sister, blinking. His arms shook, stopped, then shook again. "No," he whispered. "We are the guardians of _life_."_

_Jaina froze, her brow rising. "What?"_

"_We are the guardians of life." Jacen stopped, looking around. He turned back to his sister, saw that she was listening completely. "We guard life. The Jedi are here to ensure that no one stops life from growing."_

"_Right, sure," Jaina admitted, still not sure where her brother was going._

"_But humanoids are the biggest threat!" Jacen persisted as he began to pace around the hall. "They, we, build bigger weapons and make new rules against one another." Jacen finally focused his view on his sister. "It's the cycle that has killed thousands of_ us_ for generations."_

_Jaina paused. "Us? Humanoids? You must mean millions, not thousands."_

"_No," Jacen insisted, "Us, Jedi. Thousands."_

_Jaina's eyes twitched. "Jedi are still people, we aren't something separate."_

_Jacen stopped in his approach, watching the floor for several seconds before turning back up toward Jaina. "We can save this galaxy from itself."_

_Jaina squinted, her shoulders twitching toward a natural fighting stance._

"_We are here to allow the galaxy to do what it will."_

_Jacen, now almost shaking with rage, started to respond. Something stopped him, be it the Force or simple lack of argument, and Jacen stepped back. Zekk didn't even need to focus to feel the uncertain wake of Force following Jacen as he rushed from the hall._

Zekk turned to face what was left of Jacen Solo. He knew it was a small fraction. Zekk considered the years of the Vong war, Jaina's brother's years gone, and knew exactly what Jacen had become. To Zekk, the Sith Lord was no longer an amorphous shape of strength and rage.

His fear began to subside, his nerves settled gradually. Caedus sensed this immediately, and his smirk was quickly replaced with concentration. Something wasn't right. The man's smarter half was bleeding out on the floor, his forces had long-since jumped system, and nearly his entire right pant leg was red. Why wasn't he retreating? Why the hell was he calmer than before?

It infuriated Caedus. He could step out of a building, and an entire week's worth of murders and rapes would be pushed to the Minor Notices sections of the HoloNews. Merely lifting his hand could bring Coruscantians to their knees and fill Corellians' pants with urine. An open palm and a lazy thought, and he could topple a building blocks away.

So why the hell was this confused, woman-whipped Jedi moving into a fighting stance _again_?

Zekk had surprised Caedus, and the younger Lord finally allowed himself to admit that enough was enough. It wasn't much of a choice. The constant snubbing and ignorance of what he was doing and sacrificing to save the Galaxy from itself, the sheer adolescence of people he had once held dear, had finally toppled the bridge above his constant, undeniable rage.

He freely fell into the red river below. A single spark appeared from the front of Caedus' shoulder. It hopped its way down his bicep, leapt onto the top of forearm, continued bouncing, and landed softly upon Darth Cadeus' lightsaber's emitter. The red blade erupted into a fluctuating and fiery red ether.


	12. Chapter 12

Part 12

Caedus freely fell into the red river below. A single spark appeared from the front of Caedus' shoulder. It hopped its way down his bicep, leapt onto the top of his forearm, continued bouncing, and landed softly upon Darth Cadeus' lightsaber's emitter. The red blade erupted into a fluctuating and fiery red ether.

Darth Caedus broke into a sprint.

Zekk had never seen anyone run calmly before. In fact, Caedus proceeded to pull off many things Zekk had never seen before. At this point, that was alright with him. Zekk could see the rage burning in Caedus' eyes. He no longer expected any complicated melee moves or Force techniques from the Supreme Commander of the Unified Planetary Force.

Caedus leaned forward and brought a sweeping strike around at Zekk's left. Zekk stopped the strike, both of his hands vibrating on the hilt. Caedus's blade bounced off Zekk's and he stepped forward, whipping his lightsaber down at Zekk's cranium. The Jedi brought up a high block just in time, but the Sith beam bounced again, this time coming back around at Zekk's left leg. He blocked again, but the distance between crossed blades tightened and his tunic was shorter than ever before. The fringes of Zekk's pant legs sizzled away.

A left fist rushed in and slammed into Zekk's sternum. Crack. Zekk stumbled back. Momentary stings faded into the continuing rush of Force and adrenaline. Caedus forced upon Zekk's blade, trying to parry it away and open the Jedi for a killing blow. The blue beam hardly budged. Caedus looked up, meeting Zekk's eyes. Zekk, nearly out of energy and severely low on blood, managed a smile. Caedus' brow flared, his nostrils rising. The Sith Lord wrapped his free hand around Zekk's face and shoved the insolent Jedi back.

Darth Caedus struck, Zekk blocked, strike, block, left, right, left. High block into a low catch, step back to parry a thrust. Caedus' left eye twitched uncontrollably. He swung violently down at Zekk's left shoulder, a clear sign of an attempted final blow, but Zekk forced his weight into cross block. He held it, barely. Caedus struck again just as before, but harder. Zekk still managed to hold the strike, but from the heat he could feel growing within his lightsaber's hilt, another one would be the last.

He couldn't let it end. At least, not quite yet. His muscles were begging for rest, his bones were rattling in protest, and his heart was just about ready to burst. Something silent, but familiar like before, was begging him to hold on just a little longer. Zekk was alright with this. Zekk stepped wide to the right to avoid Caedus' third and finishing strike and dipped, rising, and cleaving his blue blade straight up through Caedus' chest. The five or six shifting panels of Caedus' old Galactic Alliance Guard chest armor separated cleanly, leaving a glowing red streak from shoulder to waist.

Caedus locked eyes with Zekk. In those corrupt irises, Zekk saw hate, fury, and most importantly, _fear_. Then the fear rushed away, and a fluorescent yellow fire filled the Sith's eyes.

In a flash, Caedus struck Zekk's blade with his own. The force was too sudden for Zekk, and his lightsaber was sent spinning across the room. Zekk's lightsaber hilt bounced against the metallic floor, bladeless, and settled against a transparent wall. Continuing his movement, Caedus extended his open palm toward Zekk, and a torrential wave of invisible energy crashed into the Jedi. Zekk was lifted clear from the floor, and his every limb shook without command.

Zekk stuck out his heels to stop himself from sliding limply down the wall. He forced what little focus remained into his sight, trying to concentrate on Caedus.

The Sith's arm reached out, a terrible disc of red light shot at Zekk, and the disc was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

Caedus stood still for several seconds, heaving with each breath, his arm extended toward Zekk. Zekk could hear and feel a distinct humming very close, but he was fairly sure his own lightsaber was still inactive in another corner of the room. Even through his fogged mind, Zekk could tell that Caedus had somehow lost his red-bladed lightsaber.

Now was the time to strike. Zekk sensed out his lightsaber's location and reached out to call it back.

His arm wouldn't cooperate.

Zekk switched to his left hand to reign his 'saber hilt back. That arm refused to move as well. The familiar hum intensified. Zekk noticed his breaths becoming harder and much less rewarding. He looked down.

A blindingly-bright beam of crimson extended from his chest, ending in a silver cylinder with black touches.

Zekk watched the red beam flicker within his chest for several seconds. He had given up trying to take in air. Caedus blinked, shaking his head. He stepped forward and gripped his lightsaber's hilt, intending to draw the blade out of Zekk's sternum and end the Jedi's misery. Caedus and Zekk coughed lightly at the same time.

The dying Jedi raised his head toward the newest Sith Lord, and Caedus prepared for the most satisfying face of death and hopelessness he had seen in years. Instead, Zekk simply smiled. The Sith's grip on the hovering saber hilt was loose. Had Zekk been able to look down, much less focus his vision enough to notice the more minor details, he would've seen Caedus' hand shaking ever so slightly upon the silver cylinder.

Darth Caedus opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. His lips were dry and cracked in several places, tiny patches of dead white flesh on the verge of flaking away at the edge of his mouth. His expression betrayed a furious surprise. There were so many things that he wanted to ask, to say, to scream at Zekk, but they were all half-thoughts and unfinished connections.

The anger continued to build within Caedus as the dying Jedi took very shallow breaths through a pained smile. With all of his remaining strength, which was almost none, and some assistance from the Force, Zekk turned his head toward the crumpled body in the jumpsuit a few meters from him. He began to thank Jania's remains aloud, then something in the back of his mind reminded him that he needed to save every breath. It didn't matter, he knew that if she could speak into his mind, she would know of his gratitude regardless.

He wasn't thankful for getting him killed. The realization that he almost thanked her for leading him to his own death amused him, and he nearly wasted extra breaths on a laugh. No, he was thankful for giving him a chance to redeem himself. Zekk had fought alongside the Solo children and the rest of the New Jedi Order for many a year. His regular nightmares of memories from the Shadow Academy had slowly decreased as time went by, but in on every enemy he killed in the name of good, he saw the face of one of his young victims. Zekk had been the same age as those he killed during his dark training, but that didn't matter. Sometimes he would be haunted by visions of children he himself had not killed, but had watched the death of in the trials. These were victims too.

Zekk had been the most powerful person in that facility. Brakiss would have given him a good fight, but the now-dying Jedi would have ultimately won over his old Dark master in a hypothetical fight. At any moment, Zekk could have turned his blade on the organizers of that hell. Instead, he lead them into battle, making himself responsible for the deaths of even more of them.

But here he was, feeling the Force's graceful tendrils approaching his luminous self, and was only too happy to smile at the face of his killer. Before Zekk began to think on what his sacrifice had accomplished, precisely why he was smiling, Caedus shouted. It was a deep, furious yell from deep within the diaphragm. The Sith Lord gripped the side of Zekk's head violently, his fingertips stabbing through thick black hair. Zekk's head was forced downward, and the Jedi's vision was filled with bright crimson, the lightsaber still stubbornly wedged in his sternum and the wall behind.

"Look!" Caedus shouted, mere inches from Zekk's face. "Look at what you have accomplished! Your friends are dead or fleeing. Your Order will retreat to some ridiculous deep space hellhole like Dagobah or Ilum and pretend it is still relevent. That old man will continue to preach about moral absolutes until he becomes a senile shepherd without a flock and dies a pointless death."

Caedus paused to draw a deep breath, possibly in an attempt to calm himself, though it did nothing to his tone.

"And yet, with all of these shortcomings and failures to reflect upon as you die, you focus on my sister. My sister!" The Sith's grip on Zekk's face tightened. "You are just as responsible for her death as she is. I have no doubt you and she concocted this ridiculous mission, probably without even telling the laughable remains of the Council. She always held a flame for the dark and the lost. At any point, you could have said "No, my love, this is moronic. Instead of being disappointingly-predictable and sprinting towards our death, let's see if our old childhood friend might actually not be the cliché holodrama villain old Skywalker had led us to believe!" But no. Here you two are, dying and dead."

Zekk continued to stare at the lightsaber, and used the focus of the living Force about to take his life to fill his lungs. His words were shallow and sickly, but had a volume entirely imappropriate for dying.

"Ever since you put on that cape, you've talked too much." Zekk managed to punctuate the quip with a soft chuckle.

"You blind fool!" Caedus' grip on Zekk's face increased further. Small red sparks danced along the Sith's fingers and fractures began to form in Zekk's jaw. "What part of this are you failing to understand? This is not difficult!"

Caedus grabbed Zekk's wrist with his free hand and wrapped the Jedi's fingers around the handle of the weapon impaling him.

"Feel this, scum! The cold metal in your hand right now is your death. It is your pointlessness and your failure. It is the disappointment of your old Dark master, your current Jedi allies, and your dead lover. It is all of those things conveniently rolled into a silver and red package!"

Zekk felt the warmth and hum of the Sith lightsaber hilt in his hand. He gripped as tightly as his failing tendons would allow and imagined himself siphoning its energy into himself. Zekk could feel Caedus' gloved hand upon his. He imagined himself siphoning energy from the Sith's hand too.

Caedus continued to shout, saliva forming at the edges of his lips. "There is going to be a glorious new dawn, with billions of planets of trillions of peoples able to live under one uncontested flag. They will be protected by a new order of Force users, Sith Knights who don't follow the Sith code. A perfect balance of power and humanity, they will use the Dark and the Light to become the ultimate guardians of prosperity." The Sith Lord's grip on Zekk's hand and the lightsaber handle became firm. "And I shall lead them!"

A thought, almost strong enough to be called a suggestion, appeared in Zekk's mind from seemingly nowhere. The suggestion was not his own, nor was it a suggestion at all.

It was a signal.

Zekk was no longer imagining that he was siphoning energy from his old friend, he could now feel the energy gathering in his hand. The energy was familiar, both sickeningly-cold and furiously-hot at the same time. Fueled by Caedus' rage, it was nearly pure dark Force. The energy might have burned another Jedi's hand clean into ozone, but Zekk had a history in wielding this fierce power. He used a small portion of it to lift his head up and meet Caedus' eyes. Another portion was put into clear, poignant words.

"That sounds like a great future, Jacen." He spat blood onto the Sith's face. "It's a shame neither of us will live to see it."

Zekk's mouth became a full smirk as he focused all of the burning Force energy directly into the lightsaber hilt in his hand. The silver cylinder immediately exploded. Fire, circuitry, stray plasma, cloth, flesh and blood burst outward. Darth Caedus launched himself back several feet, screaming and clutching the ruined remains of his left hand with his right. Zekk finally fell to the cold floor, his smirk only broken up by soft coughs and laughter.

_"My Lord, are you there?"_

The voice came from the High Commander of the Unified Planetary Force in the ship's bridge below them. Caedus ceased his screaming, but didn't bother to draw fresh air as he responded to the comm unit on his waist.

"What is it," Caedus demanded, his voice shallow.

_"Lord Caedus, something is going wrong with almost every system within the ship. Engines, directional control, shield generators, the hyperdrive engines, our laser batteries, everything! It is a near-complete system failure. Everyone is accounted for and rushing to their emergency posts to attempt to restore anything, but I have no explanation. Do you have any idea at all what might have caused this, Sire?"_

Darth Caedus felt the ship beneath him begin to shake violently, the shaking interspersed with jolts and leaps as systems failed, began to start up again, and failed once more. The Sith Lord stepped toward Zekk, blood dripping heavily and continuously from his destroyed left hand. Caedus reached down and grabbed Zekk by the collar, lifting the Jedi up with ease. Zekk looked down and continued to smirk as his old friend torqued his jaw and ground his teeth.

And with the last of the energy he had stolen from the Dark Lord of the Sith and Head of the Unified Planetary Force, Zekk spoke.

"You shouldn't have taught Ben to hide so well, Solo."


	13. Chapter 13

Part 13

And with the last of the energy he had stolen from the Dark Lord of the Sith and Head of the Unified Planetary Force, Zekk spoke.

"You shouldn't have taught Ben to hide so well, Solo."

The fury within Darth Caedus was building upon itself at an exponential rate. In the span of under two seconds, his mind saw every moment in his rise to power where he had attempted to show those he once cared-for the good works that this could lead to. With each of these moments, the distance between the Sith Lord and the ability to care about people who disagreed with his choices increased until it was a gaping chasm of apathy, the only bridges across leading to Jaina Solo, Anakin Solo, Tenel Ka Djo and Allana Djo Solo. The former two were his now-dead siblings, the latter two consisted of his wife and child.

Tenel Ka. In a universe of twisting webs of chaos and anger, Tenel Ka represented a small gem of purposeful clarity and beauty. But within this gem laid a massive ocean of tranquility and acceptance, vast and deep. Jacen had never exercised the opportunity to leap into these soothing waters nearly as often as he wished over the course of Jedi and Sith career, but the inside of his mind was filled with pictures of the special place Tenel Ka represented. He had often closed his eyes and admired this beautiful spot, imagining himself entangled in the arms of his lover, happily lost in this secret sea.

When their love gave way to an infant girl, Darth Caedus was suddenly open to attack on several fronts. At one end, she represented a new and even stronger rip in the fierce bubble of unemotional leadership and solemn dedication to the Sith mantle. On the other hand, her existence itself was a very literal exploitability to Jacen's mental state. An infant child is an offensively-easy target.

The remains of a thoroughly-destroyed bridge still hung loosely in the canyon of Darth Caedus' apathetic connection to the rest of the world. That bridge represented lost potential on a massive scale, Ben Skywalker, son of the Republic hero and once-most-powerful Jedi in the galaxy, Luke Skywalker. The Sith Lord had taken that potential under his dark wing and had made endless plans for the future. But this potential was apparently not quite a strong as Caedus had hoped, and after being put to the test in an imitation of Vong "Embrace of Pain" torture device, Ben fell to the Dark Side just long enough to tear free of the painful implements and fly away from Caedus' tutelage.

Except now Ben was apparently back for a visit, and was unquestionably being a terrible guest.

The voice of Brant Preyl, High Commander of the Unified Planetary Force and Darth Caedus' right-hand-man, once again flowed from the comm unit within the Sith Lord's cloak.

_"My lord? I have an update."_

Darth Caedus continued to stare at the crumpled body of Zekk. The Jedi had died with that same insufferable smirk he had been wearing as he destroyed Caedus' left hand.

"Go on, Preyl. I have been somewhat busy in my observation chamber, but you now have my full attention."

_"Sir, we have secured the _Anakin Solo_'s directional control, but without engines and primary thrusters, we will eventually fall into Coruscant's gravitational well. The good news is that we have quite some time before that happens, and the Confederate forces have all either been deactivated or jumped out of the system."_

"Good," Caedus seethed, the volume and strength in his voice returning as he used the Force to stop the copious bleeding in his left wrist and to begin closing the wound. "Continue to work on the ship's systems. Have all hangars shut and locked and all escape pods secured with armed details. I will deal with the problem's source."

_"Yes, my lord."_

High Commander Preyl had been an invaluable asset to Caedus since the Battle of Kashyyyk. During the decisive battle, Alliance forces began to burn the eons-old forests of the planet as an example to other border planets harboring and aiding the Confederacy. Admiral Atoko, then-commander of the Fifth Fleet, began to question the purpose of Darth Caedus' actions. Out of respect for his decades of service, the Dark Lord had allowed Atoko several minutes of disrespectful comments and near-insubordination before finally relieving him of his post. Despite the battle being nearly won, Caedus still needed a commander for his fleet in the middle of the action. Trusting the Force, which had empowered his meteoric rise to authority, he used his instincts and made a quick and surprising choice.

Then-Captain Brant Preyl was the youngest man in the Fleet in command of a Star Destroyer, though he was still several years older than Caedus. The decision proved wise almost immediately, with Preyl slipping into the role of Fleet Admiral with grace and professionalism. He wasn't nearly as grim or stern as his predecessor, though was more than willing to execute any grim order given to him by Caedus and be stern enough to see it followed-through. When off-duty, the man was calm and thoughtful.

Jacen had often found himself speaking freely with Preyl as though he were an old friend with whom he had shared many an escapade. On more than one occassion, Jacen had nearly let slip details about the the complicated situation between himself, his secret lover and daughter, and the number of other Jedi he had put off during his reign. Of course, the Dark Lord had always caught himself. The rest of the galaxy needed to know as little as possible about Caedus' familial dealings and feuds, and when circumstances did require him to call for swift and silent assistance in cleaning up the evidence of such dealings, he had the Galactic Alliance Guard on speed dial.

Darth Caedus walked to the wall before him, the wall containing a ruined turbolift door, several lightsaber trail marks, and a number of patches of drying blood. He stepped over Zekk and took great care not to look at the body of his gone sister. Flipping open a panel to the left of the warped doorway, he pushed a series of buttons on a keypad within, and a small black comm unit popped out. He took it from the recessed panel and began to speak.

"Gamma Ace, respond."

_"Gamma Ace acknowledging, requesting confirmation," _A woman came back over the comm. The woman on the other end had a deep and distinctly-grim tone, but the voice's age revealed she couldn't possibly be older than late 30's.

"Confirming, victory-echo-rancor-gamma-echo-rancor-echo."

_"What is your command, Lord Caedus?"_

"I need a body team to collect in Observation, two bodies: one male, one female. Destory the male, retain the female. Also, prepare a hunt-and-secure unit, close quarters. The target is hiding aboard the _Anakin Solo_. "Force Shadow" contingency."

_"Authorization to use Lightsaber, sir?"_

"Yes."

_"Details and D.O.A.?"_

"Young human male, caucasian."

_"D.O.A., sir?"_

There was an audible pause. Jacen could resist no longer and turned back to look at the body of his sister. His stare lingered as he spoke.

"Alive preferable... but dead if necessary."

_"As you wish, sir."_


	14. Chapter 14

Part 14

If you cut off the head, the body will die. If you cut off circulation to a limb, the limb will die. If you kill the nerves of an area, it can't feel what is being done to it. Surgical, precise. A quick snip, and suddenly the brain doesn't even remember what a left leg was, much less how to use it. A quick burn and no one is wise to the arteries being torn asunder. Control the fluids, make sure nothing falls, be positive nothing can make a sound.

A motorized vehicle, like an Imperial II-class Star Destroyer for instance, is much like any other living being. There are vital parts, but the ability for these parts to stay connected to each other is often just as important as the parts themselves. What good is a major industrial plant if there's no way to get carriers to or from it?

What good is a massive back of thrusters if they're no longer connected to a generator? Even if those were connected, what good were they if the navigational controls weren't connected to anything that might control navigation? Quick cuts, an intricate knowledge of each point and the strike point only. One slip, one missed stroke with the blade, the wrong thing is cut and suddenly the brain knows what's going on. It knows what just went wrong. It knows where you are. The worst part of all of it? Having no idea if the "brain" knew where you were yet.

Several concurrent streams of thought ran through Ben Skywalker's head, all being rigorously kept far enough in the back of his head to only hear the occasional errant shout of doubt or concern. This was a mission, he was a soldier, and there was a target. Unfortunately, the target was not only in front of him, but beside him, behind him, above, below, completely encompassing him. The target was the very warship that was supplying him with oxygen and protecting him from the onyx vacuum outside.

Killing something from the inside-out was not an un-heard-of tactic. For centuries, the idea of using spies and munitions behind enemy lines was considered sound and exercised frequently. But when the enemy lines are three-hundred-and-sixty degrees around you horizontally and vertically, and the area outside is even more deadly, the idea of killing the target from the inside-out was a very unappealing one.

But that was just another train of thought he was forcing to a muffled part of his head as the brought the silver hilt of his lightsaber out, pressed it directly against a pipe twenty centimeters in diameter, and thumbed the weapon's activation switch.

An audible crack immediately followed by a static-filled hum, the familiar sound of a Jedi's signature weapon, filled the small service hallway. Ben quickly raised and lowered the blade in a single graceful motion so as to completely cut the pipe and nothing else but the empty bulkhead behind it. Another flick and the blue beam disappeared back into the hilt. A feint smell began to emanate from the two open pipes, a familiar mixture of a fresh meadow's breeze tainted slightly by rotting vegetation.

Concentrated Tibana gas. Though it was perfectly harmless when inhaled so long as your mouth wasn't sealed directly to the valve, the smell was easily-recognizable by many, especially those in the military. Concentrated, pressurized, and given a slight charge, this was the stuff that powered nearly every weapon in the galaxy. Valuable, to say the least.

It was no wonder people were willing to convert countless planets' entire atmospheres into giant farms for the stuff.

So, as he had done eight times before, Ben took the metal panel lying on the floor, positioned it back in place, and called on the Force to press the panel firmly enough to create an air-tight seal. Considering the distance between this point in the Tibana gas circulation system and its designated weapons battery, several banks of turbolasers were going to be dry in about thirty seconds.

At that point, the Anakin Solo would be down a ninth bank of turbolasers, and his former master would be that much more frustrated. Perhaps he wouldn't be frustrated at all, not even surprised. Perhaps Jacen knew exactly what Ben was doing and was waiting for the right moment to spring some trap.

Another shout of dissent, more doubt that the young Jedi had to quiet before it consumed him. But then another thing entered his mind, this one much louder and clearer. This was a frequency his mind had been tuned to for some time now, and the signal was coming back. It was the Force letting him know that people were approaching. Concentrating on the second awareness, Ben felt two presences headed his way at a brisk pace along another corridor perpendicular to the one he had just be cutting into.

They would round the corner in a few seconds and see him. His loose-fitting Alliance jumpsuit would only give the two crew members only a second's pause before recognizing him as someone who was very much not supposed to be there. Forgetting the possibility of them being armed, even spotting him would bring this whole scheme to a quick stop. Then Jaina's, and possibly Zekk's, sacrifice would have been in vain.

Jaina. His loving cousin. More violent thoughts threatening to ruin his chances.

Ben hurried to establish a quiet link to the minds of the two Alliance members. They were a man and a woman, their personalities somehow familiar, both of them professional and intent on their duties. He could tell from the state of their minds that they were prepared to do something grim. It was something that they didn't exactly want to do, but would do nonetheless without hesitation Something violent. They were on the hunt.

Eleven seconds and they would be in his line of sight, and he in their's. Not enough time to make himself invisible in their minds. It had to be dark, fast. Ben looked up at the corridor's light panels, six of them from one end to the other. Seven seconds. He couldn't focus on their wiring and circuitry and destroy them with the force, that kind of work was far too small and precise, especially when it was hidden behind ceiling panels. The lights would have to go. Four seconds. Ben focused more intently on their minds and established a connection to the lights in the corridor. Ben saw the first inch of a black boot come into view.

Using a good portion of the limited control he had on the Force, Ben forced the sound of an explosion and a sudden loss of balance into the soldiers' minds. In the same moment, the Jedi reached out to the lights lining the ceiling and closed his fist. Glass and transparisteel exploded, filling the hall with shrapnel, and then darkness. A sharp pain shot into Ben's right arm as a chunk of transparisteel about half of the size of a key card lodged itself just below his shoulder.

He bit back any natural reaction to the pain and continued to focus on the minds of the Alliance soldiers, who had just fell to the floor of the intersection of the two corridors.

For a split second, Ben's concentration was broken. It wasn't the chunk of material piercing his loose jumpsuit, but instead the uniforms, as well as armor and helmets of the two men who had just come into view. They were Gallactic Alliance Guard, the secret police of Darth Caedus' new government. What was once a public security force established to fight domestic terrorism had become an elite unit of killers who came and went noiselessly, leaving only dead dissidents. Ben Skywalker had once been a high ranking member of the division.

Visions of slicing open the front doors of homes and being met with the horrified looks of huddled families began to fill his consciousness. He physically threw his head back and mentally beat the memories into submission, then reestablished his connection to the GAG soldiers. From what Ben could tell from their minds, they bought his ruse. From what they could tell, some part of the ship somewhere had just exploded and the shock had taken out the lighting in a hallway, possibly more. Ben kept his sigh of relief silent as the operatives rose to their feet.

But the soldiers didn't continue to their destination. Go, Ben thought. Go, Ben tried to make them think. You have somewhere to be, he wordlessly said to them. One of the soldiers began to turn and continue on his way, but the other grabbed his shoulder and turned him back around. This was different. Ben could feel something different in their minds. The two soldiers certainly weren't Force-sensitive, but some part of their awareness was keen to Ben's intrusion. They didn't turn towards Ben's location, but instead raised their weapons and began a slow sweep of the three directions of hallway around them. Then one of them spoke.

"This is Gamma Four and Gamma Five. Did anyone else feel any sort of violent vibration or hear an explosion?"

Ben closed his eyes and exhaled, concentrating on the inch of space between the inside of the helmet and the soldier's ear.

"Negative, Gamma Four. No sudden movement or distinct noise among the ship within the last ten seconds."

No, Ben thought. If only he had known they were GAG before he had attempted the stunt, he would've known they would be second-guessing anything like this. Ben had slipped past various crew members and successfully hidden from patrols ten or twelve times using similar, though more subtle, tricks up to this point. But this time, it didn't look like his shell game was going to do the trick. He heard the soldier speak into his helmet's comm again.

"Roger. We just heard an explosion and went down. Incident may have been localized. Confirm, Gamma Ace?"

This time, a woman's voice came over the soldier's helmet. It was a woman, just younger than middle-aged from what Ben could tell. It would have been a beautiful voice if it weren't filled with restrained ferocity and... and there was something very familiar about the voice to Ben. And then it hit him, and his heart sank.

It was her.

"This is Gamma Ace. Confirmed, your experience was isolated. Shadow target possibly located. Double-check blasters set to stun and move in immediately. Myself, Six and Seven are on the way."

"Confirmed, Ace. Proceeding."

The GAG soldiers raised their weapons down the darkened hallway and began slow, steady pace in Ben's direction. He knew what came next. Two faint whines came from the men's helmets as their thermal vision activated and instantly filtered out the background heat of the ship's regular functions. For the briefest moment, all that was left in their vision was the distinct heat signature of a young male biped rising to his feet. Then the Jedi reached out with both hands and let out a quick shout, and the two soldiers rocketed from their feet and soared backwards into the solid bulkhead behind them.

Before their bodies hit the floor, Ben turned on the balls of his feet and was off. Calling upon the Force once more, he turned the corner at the intersection at the opposite end of the darkened hall and broke into a full sprint. His feet were light and he took long strides. Ben deftly slipped between two technicians exchanging notes, not bothering to pull any sort of Force trick on their minds. With any luck, they would think he was just another panicked crew member.

On pure instinct, he took a left turn, then a right and continued at full speed. He had a decent idea where he was, and the armory and barracks would be coming up on his right in a few seconds. If he could make it to the barracks, there were countless places where he could hide and then continue his sabotage mission. He turned right and a stairway came into view. Ben took and a quick full breath and leapt the entire set of stairs.

He had just enough time to register a black-clad leg before his left side flooded with pain. His momentum was violently redirected and Ben bounced against the wall to his right, his left leg caught on the stairs' railing, and he fell awkwardly down the last three steps. Finally coming to a stop on the floor below, Ben groaned loudly as he rolled over and looked up to the top of the stairs. Fierce pain was coursing throughout his body, emanating from various places: his head, his left ribs, his right arm, his ankle, and another dull ache was just starting to form in his chest.

Ben's vision was blurry and the room had a fierce unsteadiness, but he forced himself to focus on the figure at the top of the stairs, the one who had delivered the fierce kick to his side as he was still in the air. However, when she spoke, Ben recognized her before she came into focus.

"This is Gamma Ace. I have Shadow target. He is wounded but conscious. Blunt force, no stuns or blasts. Converge on my location immediately."

Ben clumsily reached for the lightsaber at his waist and held it out, but didn't activate it. Allowing himself a rare swear, he slowly scooted a meter back, but didn't stand or take his eyes off "Gamma Ace". Finally he summoned the strength to stand, but his left ankle was definitely threatening to let go. He spoke, but his words were desperate and wavering.

"Tahiri, please, this is wrong! I don't know what he did to you, but he's-"

Ben's pleas were cut off as Tahiri flicked a black metal cylinder into her had from seemingly nowhere and activated a meter-long blade of glowing red.

"Dead or alive, Jedi. Your choice."


	15. Chapter 15

Part 15

Darth Caedus placed the small black comm unit next to his regular one within his cloak. He silently admitted that it was a bitter pill, sending his finest unit to hunt down his previous apprentice and, at one time, friend. The Sith Lord was sure that Ben Skywalker would be surprised to see the black ops unit he ones belonged-to aiming their weapons at him, but he was equally sure that the relatively young Jedi would be able to evade them for a considerable amount of time. Sure, Tahiri would find Ben and likely do him decent amount of harm, but there was very little chance that she would be able to kill him.

Ben would continue to bounce and run as he had been doing for a while now, but at least he would be focused on his own life and not the destruction of the _Anakin Solo. _

Caedus sensed several beings rising toward his level of the ship. He assumed correctly that they were the GAG members on the "body team". The term was exactly what it said on the holodisc: a group of soldiers tasked with collecting or destroying corpses of fallen enemies or, in situations where secrecy was critical, allies. With mild curiosity, he remembered that the door to the turbolift had been cut apart. The GAG soldiers arose into view, clad in sectioned black armor, as well as black helmets with green visors. Sometimes Caedus wondered if he was the only one who was comforted by the sight of the secret police.

Their existence was very-much public during the height of the Second Galactic Civil War. They were the unit busting down doors of would-be terrorists and keeping the streets of Coruscant safe. Well, as safe as they ever were above level 1500 anyway. Jacen had even attended the funeral of Mara Jade Skywalker while wearing his GAG outfit, which consisted of a black set of Jedi robes under a segmented piece of black torso armor. He had been the one responsible for Mara's death, but at the time he was the only one aware of it. But that was all energy through the conduit now for Darth Caedus. Just another in a long string of necessary deaths along the path to his vision for the galaxy.

The man at the front of the GAG body team stepped forward and saluted crisply.

"Second Team here for body work per your orders, sir."

Caedus simply nodded. "Proceed."

The six black-clad soldiers behind him split into groups of three, each approaching a different body. Within the three that approached Zekk's limp, smirking corpse, one held a DXR-6 Disruptor Rifle. The weapon, as well as the entire family of weapons it belonged to, was almost completely outlawed by the Alliance.

It was not a standard blaster rifle by any means. A fully charged shot from such a rifle would cause such an intense reaction in the victim that it would disrupt the target at a molecular level. This would result in a small scattering of ash and smoke where the target had been seconds before. It was a grusomely-efficient weapon. Caedus admired it.

The moment he had attained enough authority within the Republic to do-so, Jacen had ordered three crates of the rifles for his GAG squad. Despite being used countless times since their acquisition, only once had the action had a non-Galactic Alliance Guard witness. Fortunately, this witness had no other ties and was quickly dealt-with.

The soldier responsible for the mistake had since improved his timing and tactical execution. Darth Caedus did not dispose of subordinates who failed him as quickly and rashly as the last Dark Lord in his position of power. Jacen did not intend to lead through fear, but respect instead. Fear of one's superiors, he felt, only resulted in a temporary improvement of performance at best. On the other hand, admiration, a willingness to give one's life for their superiors, was a significant boost to troops' abilities.

Caedus turned to watch as two GAG soldiers repositioned Zekk's body. They compressed it into a tight fetal position and stepped back. The trooper holding the disruptor positioned it against his shoulder and flipped the firing selector to full charge.

"Wait," Caedus commanded.

The Sith Lord didn't have to raise his voice or imbue it with any sense of threat. The disruptor rifle lowered as its operator turned toward him. Without a word, Caedus raised his right hand toward the lightsaber hilt frozen in Zekk's cold hand. After a second's resistance, the hilt slipped from the dead Jedi's grasp and into Caedus' remaining intact hand. With his own lightsaber destroyed, he didn't want to be without a weapon until he could construct another proper Sith blade.

He attached the weapon onto his belt where his previous lightsaber once rested, then turned and used the Force to retrieve the larger half of his sister's lightsaber. With its burnt circuitry and exposed crystal, the weapon was useless in its current state. Caedus was unsure if he would restore the weapon, but he knew that it was not going to be leaving his possession.

"Carry on," Caedus said, still looking at the ruined lightsaber.

The GAG operative readied the disruptor rifle again, allowed it the few seconds needed to build a charge, and fired. The beam was instead and continuous, unlike the separate bolts of a blaster's fire. Zekk's body, clothing and all, turned a bright yellow and glowed fiercely, then a red hole appeared at the point of impact and began expanding, spreading across the body until there was naught left but smoke and cinders. Another GAG member to his right held up a low-yield energy emitter, often used for burning away potentially incriminating things like hair, flakes of skin, a layer of dust retaining fingerprints, and sometimes the ashes of a victim of a disruptor's beam. The vague cone of light was barely visible as it turned the remaining particles into air.

_"This is Gamma Four and Gamma Five. Did anyone else feel any sort of violent vibration or hear an explosion?"_

The voice came from the black comm unit within Caedus' robes. It was one of the members of the other GAG team, the one he had assigned to track down Ben Skywalker.

_"Negative, Gamma Four. No sudden movement or distinct noise among the ship within the last ten seconds."_

_"Roger. We just heard an explosion and went down. Incident may have been localized. Confirm, Gamma Ace?"_

Jacen allowed himself a small smirk. Even when cornered by Caedus' finest, Ben was being extremely creative. Had he not personally trained the members of the GAG in ways of hunting an evasive Jedi, the trick would have surely worked. The fact that the squad was personally led by his own Sith apprentice didn't hurt.

_"This is Gamma Ace. Confirmed, your experience was isolated. Shadow target possibly located. Double-check blasters set to stun and move in immediately. Myself, Six and Seven are on the way."_

_"Confirmed, Ace. Proceeding."_

They had found him. The chase was on. Now, Caedus felt, was finally the right time to make what would inevitably be an awkward holocall. The Sith lord looked to make sure that the other members of his elite unit were treating Jaina's body with the reverence and professionalism she deserved. The part within Jacen that still loved her wasn't entirely dead, simply stored away so that he could make the decisions he must. The GAG operatives carefully loaded Jaina onto a hovering metal platform. Once safely aboard, one of them touched a button and a black dome covered the platform, hiding his sister's empty physical remains.

Much like her lightsaber, Caedus was unsure what he would do with her body. Part of him wanted to send it back to his mother and father, a gesture that the supreme leader of the galaxy was no without compassion. But there was the strong possibility that her body would be used as an icon, a point around which the remaining Jedi and other rebels would rally around. Jaina had once been declared the "Sword of the Jedi" by Luke, and if her body allowed her to become an empowering martyr in death, the puzzling title might finally come to fruition.

However, Caedus knew his parents too well to be concerned by the odds of that happening. Despite their legendary status and constant public exposure since the Battle of Yavin, Leia Organa Solo and her husband Han wanted to be private people again. Caedus knew that they longed for a life where their family could live away from constant conflict. A few Jedi or, more likely, Corellian Confederacy higher-ups might suggest that they use Jaina's body as Caedus had previously thought. Ultimately though, it would be a quiet service. Her death would have no impact on the conflict's outcome, and Han would enter an even deeper state of depression in the belief that all three of his children were gone.

Darth Caedus stepped aboard the turbolift and descended to the floor that held, among other things, his personal office. The GAG operatives would patiently await the turbolift's return. The observation room he had just left once held a large meeting table and countless chairs, as well as small side tables for decorations and food services. After the Battle of Kashyyyk and the galaxy's recognition of his authority, he had the furniture removed. He found the empty room, with its large space and direct view of any battle his flagship might be participating in, especially useful for practicing a Force technique he had heard of several years before, called "Battle Meditation." So far, he had not had much luck mastering the skill, but he felt that he was making progress.

The turbolift came to a soft halt at his destination, and he calmly stepped off in the direction of his office. Various technicians, soldiers, and officers came to sudden halts as he passed. Darth Caedus entered his office and the door locked behind him. The office was large, but not obscenely-so. It held a large, black desk and several matching chairs on one side, with a larger black chair with deep red cushions on the other. The room was lacking in decoration and personal touches, with only a large picture of a cut-out view of the _Anakin Solo_ on one wall, and a display containing most of the various medals and awards he had won while serving for the Alliance.

Jacen sighed and gestured towards an inconspicuous portion of the wall behind his desk. A hidden lock was moved by the Force and a small drawer slid free. Within were several photographs, a couple holodiscs, and now two-thirds of Jaina Solo's broken lightsaber. The drawer closed and Caedus sat behind his desk. He reached for the control pad for his desk's holo terminal and began keying in a comm code that had been given to him in an encrypted message sent to the _Anakin Solo_ following the Battle of Kashyyyk. The code had been given to him if he ever wished to speak with someone about forsaking the path of the Sith and returning to the Jedi fold. He had only used it once before, and not for that purpose.

After a minute, the age- and weather-worn face of an old man appeared in transparent blue, followed by a full body of Jedi robes below. The man wore a stern expression, but it was clear that he had grown tired. Caedus spoke first.

"Jedi Master Skywalker, I believe there is something of yours aboard my ship."


	16. Chapter 16

Part 16

_"Jedi Master Skywalker, I believe there is something of yours aboard my ship."_

A voice came from the room next to his own. He could tell that the words were coming through a speaker unit from the undertones of digital nasality a sentence transmitted over a comm always seemed to take. But having been stuck in a medbay bed for the better part of three months, he had learned to tune out the constant comm usage and clamor going on in the small command room adjacent to the medbay. There was something specific about this voice that he had subconsciously recognized, something that made him as angry as his aching muscles would allow. The older man in the bed attempted to sit up and was met with furious pain from the abdominal muscles that were still rebuilding themselves. His teeth fused together as he pushed the pain back, the only audible sign he allowed was a quick growl.

"Kyle, please. Lay back down," a woman said as she placed a slightly-oversized gloved hand onto the man's right leg.

Kyle Katarn, the legendary smuggler-turned-Jedi Master, twisted painfully toward the woman. Every time was able to take a good look at her, he was always taken back by the way the years of espionage and gunrunning had only served to make her more beautiful. At the age of sixty-six, Jan Ors had managed to maintain her looks almost as well as her ship, the _Raven's Claw_. The ship, along with it's predecessor, the _Moldy Crow_, had turned Kyle and Jan from smalltime carriers of illicit goods into two shining examples of the rogues-with-hearts-of-gold that made up the core of the Rebel Alliance.

Kyle had only begun to work with the Alliance after it had taken its grander title, the New Republic. It seemed that every true hero of that era had gained their reputation for enormous acts of heroism and destruction against impossible odds, usually against a new Imperial super weapon. Katarn was no different.

After taking down the Empire's Dark Trooper project, an initiative to create a devastating army of battle droids and powered armor, he became a full-fledged Jedi Knight. His training wasn't even finished when he again tackled two new forces, a sect of powerful Dark Jedi hunting for the Valley of the Jedi, and an army of artificially-created Dark Force-users serving under the Imperial Remnant. Guided by the memory of his father, who had been secretly working alongside a Jedi-in-hiding to help disrupt the Empire, Kyle Katarn was a poster boy for the roguish heroics that established the New Republic.

He wondered now what the old leaders of the New Republic, the long-gone military geniuses such as Admiral Ackbar and diplomatic titans like Mon Mothma, would think of him now. Wrapped in itchy medical sheets, his nostrils filled with the distinctive odor of bacta, and his name squarely in the Galactic Alliance's Top 10 Most Wanted for having attempted to assassinate the Chief of State, Kyle hoped they were smiling down on him. It was a shame he had only began his work for the New Republic well after their establishment. With so many of them now gone, he felt that perhaps his days as a staunchly-independent smuggler had been wasted.

"I'm fine, Jan," he said, stretching his arms and popping his elbows.

Jan smirked at him. She had always been the positive influence on his life, both emotionally and quite literally when behind the controls of her ship. Despite her optimistic personality, he had only ever seen her smile any larger than a wry smirk once. It was after he had just finished carving a statue of his father in the Valley of the Jedi, following his victory over Jarec's Dark Jedi cult, that he caught her full smile. Caught was the exact phrase needed, because she attempted to hide it almost immediately.

"There are more organs in you with lightsaber burns than without," she said. "I know it seems like you've been cooped up in here for a long time, but Cilghal says you'll be back on your feet in only a couple of weeks."

"Back on my feet, sure, but did she say anything about when I would be ready for action again?"

Jan paused, looking down at her cybernetic arm as she gently stroked Kyle's sheet-covered leg.

"I didn't ask."

"Don't lie to me, Jan. I know you asked. I'm almost positive you asked about my combat-readiness before anything else. You know just as well as I do that if I can't be out there fighting for us, fighting back this ridiculous farce of an Alliance in the gunner seat next to you, I'm as good as dead to the world and myself." He paused and Jan met his gaze. "I know you asked Cilghal when I would be ready to fight again."

Jan knew everything he was saying was true. She knew it's truth because it was exactly how she felt. "Cilghal said that with a series of concentrated Jedi healing sessions, you might be able to get back into the field in two or three months."

Kyle grew more frustrated, but he forced any reaction back down. Two months, let alone three, was far too long. Not to mention that said timetable was apparently reliant on steady work with a Jedi healer, and with the war going in the direction it was, those were in short supply.

They continued to look at one another, both of them silently knowing that Kyle would be tearing himself free of the medical sensors and bacta much sooner than two months, it would just require the right trigger. With that realization, Kyle focused again on the familiar voice he was hearing from the comm in the next room, and it dawned on him that the trigger might be approaching even faster than he thought. It was the voice of Galactic Alliance Chief of State Jacen Solo, known to the Jedi Coalition and others as Darth Caedus. It was the voice of the man who had put Kyle in small medbay in the east wing of Bespin City, the last base of operations for the Jedi Coalition's resistance against the Galactic Alliance.

Kyle heard Jedi Master Luke Skywalker respond to Caedus' call. It registered to Kyle that Luke was talking to his nephew, but how the founder of the new Jedi Order felt about his relative's Sith ambitions was always kept close to his chest.

"Jacen," Luke began, his voice a mixture of anger and regret, "I don't know what you're talking about. I wish I could say that it is good to hear from you again, but after all that you've done-"

_"I think, Skywalker, that if we were to review "all that I've done", our respective lists would read quite differently. If you don't mind, I would like to get back to the point of my call."_

Kyle sneered at Caedus' childish condescence. Despite what were now decades of Jedi life, Katarn still had a much more difficult time hiding his frustration than the other Masters. He tried not to dwell on how different the galaxy might be had he not failed on Coruscant. Luke's words prevented him from slipping into reliving the attempt on Caedus' life.

"Jacen, I gave you this frequency in the hopes that you would come to your senses and turn back from the Dark Side. We have helped bring many Jedi back to the Light, including several who had killed in anger. I'm sure that is not the reason for your call, but I sincerely hope that the Jacen Solo I once knew heard that."

Caedus scoffed softly. _"Skywalker... Luke, I have never understood how you can think someone has transformed into an entirely unrecognizable person after only a few years of learning and growing. Your endless compassion is noted. All of that aside, you're right in assuming that my call has nothing to do with my so-called redemption."_

Luke sighed. Kyle could picture the old Master's face in his mind. Just as Kyle had little ability to control expressing his frustration, Luke was equally unable to suppress disappointment. During one of his few conversations with Leia Solo, Kyle learned that Luke had remained as optimistic as he had been as a boy on Tatooine well into his forties, but after the Vong war began, he had began to opt for disappointment as his default reaction.

"Well then, what is it of mine that you supposedly have?"

_"Your son."_

The constant noise of shuffling boots, sensors, and radio traffic quickly dropped to a low dim. Even in his condition, with his mind full of anger, Kyle felt the pang of distress from Luke in the Force. It wasn't a sudden distress, like the kind of surprise fear that he would've sent out like a beacon if he was completely unprepared for this. No, it was a deep, sad distress. The rest of the Jedi working among the other officers felt it as well, and their concern rippled through the Force like a handful of stones tossed into a lake.

"Excuse me?"

_"Your son, Ben, is currently aboard my flagship."_

Caedus spoke calmly, the condescension and resentment from before almost entirely gone.

_"As of this moment," _he went on, _"He is running around one of the lower decks. My men are pursuing him now. I have made it clear to them that he is not to be killed. As my former friend and apprentice, I don't wish any harm on Ben. But he has done significant damage to my ship and assaulted several of my crew. If he continues to cause mayhem, I will be forced to take action."_

Kyle was certain that Darth Caedus was telling the truth about Ben, but there was more to this. How, he wondered, had Ben managed to sneak aboard the _Anakin Solo_, the gem of Caedus' fleet? The boy would have needed help. Ben Skywalker was an extremely skilled Jedi with endless potential, but a mission like that would have required extensive military expertise.

Kyle Katarn came to a sudden, sickening realization.

Calling upon the Force to dull the enormous amount of pain he was about to endure, Kyle cast aside the thin blanket, tore the sensors off of his arms and torso, and slipped the intravenous tube out of the crook of his left elbow. With Jan shouting in protest but before she could grab him, he was on his feet and beginning a slow walk across the medbay and into the hall. Jan rushed to his side and gripped his bare shoulders. He was wearing a standard pale blue one-piece bodysuit issued to all medical patients. Both the front and back zippers were undone to his waist so that the top of the bodysuit hung down to his knees.

"Kyle," Jan began, her voice stern.

As gently as he could manage, he pushed her away. She fought back he reflex to simply grab him again, having seen this determination in him before. He stepped into the small command room. With all eyes on the Jedi Master and the holographic Sith Lord, his arrival wasn't noticed. Luke was just responding to something Caedus had said as Kyle returned his attention to the conversation.

"You have my word, I didn't authorize any Jedi infiltration mission on your ship. The battle is over, we retreated. All Jedi that participated in the fight are accounted-for. We know how many pilots are no longer with us, but if any of them survived and you have them as prisoners, you haven't sent us any sort of list. Regardless, I can guarantee you that none of them were Jedi."

_"Your guarantees to me are worthless when I have three Jedi aboard my ship."_

"Three? You said that you only had my son."

Kyle finally reached the center of the room, each slow step slightly less painful than the last. He was resisting the urge to touch the large patch over his abdomen when he placed his hand on Luke's shoulder. Luke turned quickly, as if his concentration had been broken.

"Kyle, what are you doing out of medical?"

_"Ah, Jedi Master Kyle Katarn," _Caudus said, the small smirk on his lips unnoticeable through the hologram. _"I wasn't sure if you had survived our confrontation. I saw you and your partner fly off, but you were in quite poor shape at that point. That was an impressive piece of flying by your partner, by-the-way, avoiding an entire quadrant of planetary defenses on the w-"_

"Shut your mouth, Sith!" Kyle shouted, stepping forward. Everyone in the room, including Luke, motioned slightly away from the furious Jedi. Even the Sith Lord in transparent blue seemed taken aback. "Where are they?"

_"Well, as I said, Ben is currently on the run from Alliance soldiers."_

"No, you piece of slime, where are Jaina and her partner?"

Luke and Jacen gave Kyle similar looks of surprise. Luke leaned closer to Kyle.

"How do you know Jaina and Zekk are with Ben on that ship," Luke asked.

Without a moment's hesitation, Kyle turned toward his former master and said "Because I gave them the plan."

Luke's eyes grew wide, but before Katarn could explain any further, Caedus interjected.

_"Ah, this makes much more sense. Once they were aboard, I was able to sense them and guide their path, but I hadn't figured out how they snuck aboard in the first place. To an ex-Imperial officer and smuggler such as yourself, such a plan would be simple."_

Kyle raised a threatening finger toward the life-size holo of the Chief of State and spoke through clenched teeth.

"Last time I will ask this, Sith. Where are Jaina and Zekk?"

Caedus took a slow, measured breath and spoke without emotion.

_"They are both dead, and it would seem that you are responsible."_


	17. Chapter 17

Part 17

If there was anyone in the galaxy who had seen the worst the galaxy had to throw at a sentient being, and somethings from other galaxies as well, it was Tahiri Veila. Born on Tatooine, she was raised among the viscious tribal people known as Tusken Raiders, or sometimes simply "Sand People". After a childhood of hardship and survival, she was taken in by Luke Skywalker and his new Jedi Order, and trained in the Light side of the Force. However, Skywalker and the other masters knew that with her past, she needed to be observed for dark tendancies at all times.

_The hum. That familiar, comforting hum. That stark, frightening hum. It emanated from a beautiful, fearsome beam of nothing less than pure light. The light was not restrained, but focused. Light, the wonderfully curious matter that didn't exist. And there it was, honed to a meter-long shaft of glowing orange nothingness, humming away. The beam shifted and dipped, danced and twirled, moving defiantly through the air. _

The concerns about the posibility of her falling to the dark side were pushed aside when the Yuuzahn Vong arrived in the galaxy and began taking world-after-world. Their organic weaponry and mecilessness made even their lowliest warriors a decent match for your average Jedi Knight. The war was the most taxing and destructive the galaxy had seen since the Great Galactic War several millenia ago.

_She could feel it. The light had no mass, no weight, and caught no resistance from the air. It was not there. But she could sense the length of energy as she passed it around her back as physically as socks around her feet and the air rushing through her lungs._

Every Jedi was pushed to their very limits, their laws of morality and unconditional respect were put to the test, and ultimately the Jedi Code was thrown to the wind in almost every case, merely out of the need for survival. Many times suring the Vong war did a Jedi have to walk a darker path to protect the galaxy at large.

_It was a compliant dancing partner, moving as she told it to with the small metal baton in her hand. But the commands it followed were not her own. Yes, they came from her mind, rushing like a fish down a winding brook, through her moist palm and into the baton. Her mind, however, was simply another conduit in the chain. These commands rushed into her mind from another source of energy. Just like the air and the light, it did not exist. This energy was entirely intangible, formless, and came in a uniform color of naught._

Some Jedi, such as the more experienced ones like Kyle Katarn, returned to the light side of the Force with a soft landing. Others did not have this luxury. For many, the war left an enormous, permanent scar on the heart, the mind, and often the body. Some were captured and tortured in creative and abhorrent ways.

_It entered her mind, making sure to wipe its feet and not slam the door, and politely found a place for itself in the systems of nerves that would spread it throughout every inch of her body. Along the way, it made sure to slip past the parts of her mind that could comprehend it, apply to it a face and name. It was simply there, and neither of them could have been happier about it._

The ultimate prizes of war to the Yuuzhan Vong were captured Jedi. Unable to utilize the Force themselves, the Vong took what few Jedi they could capture alive and more-or-less cracked them wide open in search of a remote control for the Force. This entailed countless sessions of mental probing and time spent on the Embrace of Pain, a device that needed no further description once the name was spoken. Jacen Solo was one of the very few survivors of these horrendous techniques. Tahiri Veila was another.

_The energy within her suddenly warmed the muscles that housed it. After the warmth came one, ten, hundreds, then thousands of minuscule pricks of sensation. They came not to harm or distract, but to warn. She didn't slow down to listen. She didn't stop to question. She simply allowed the colorless, odorless energy to act as it wanted to. Releasing that much more of her body to it, she could feel the muscles in her legs contracting, her chest and head lowering. Something shot past over her head, leaving the air tense and unpleasant in its wake. Her feet shifted, and as her body turned, both of her hands brought the small silver cylinder around and behind her back. The baton jerked as if it had been struck a good distance past where it stopped. Her body continued to rotate. _

Before being captured and laid out for Vong experimentation, Tahiri had been part of a hurredly-planned and ill-concieved assault on the breeding grounds of the voxyn, a four-legged creature with a knack for hunting Force-sensitives. The mission was ultimately a success, but the few that returned never called it such. This was understandable, as Tahiri had watched her young love, Anakin Solo, die during the action.

_Assuming she was now again facing the direction she had been when she first felt the heat, the tight beam of orange light came around before her legs. The cylinder shook again. Something in her conscious mind knew why the tool felt as though it were being struck, knew enough to connect it to the message of warning the energy had provided. But that part of her mind had been pushed to the background. She couldn't tell if it had been put there by herself or the energy._

Even she herself was unsure if her grief over the loss of Anakin had made her susceptable to the torture that followed her capture a little time after the assault. During her time at the hands of Vong hospitality, her captors were finally somewhat successful. They used a combination of ritual and organic technology to implant the personality of one of their strongest warriors into her mind. What followed was several years of schizophrenic internal conflict as the two creatures fought for control of the ravaged mind.

_Her muscles shifted, and the energy rushed from her legs into her right arm. The baton redirected the orange beam's broad curve into a sharp cut in front of her upper body. There was another vibration in the baton, but it was lessened, countered by the momentum in her arm. The warmth grew to a low heat. Feeling more of the energy rushing into her body, the focused light continued its winding path before her eyes, coming around overhead, across her waist, turning sharply once more and rising straight up along her right side. _

Ultimately, Tahiri found a way to merge the two personalities into a rough mesh and regain control of her body. With the Vong war over, half of her mind was again consumed with grief over memories of Anakin Solo, and the other half consisted of the barely-contained thoughts and reflexes of a natural killer.

_The heat intensified further, and her glowing orange guardian was moving alarmingly quickly in increasingly-varied paths in front of her. The cylinder in her grasp was jerking so frequently now that her wrist was becoming used to it. She didn't like that. Before, her dances with the light had flowed, rarely rushing or stopping. They, she, was being rushed. The music was no longer what her ears were used to. She didn't like that in the least._

This combination of unbridled power and emotional suceptability created the perfect opportunity for a new Sith Apprentice after Darth Caedus' previous one, Ben Skywalker, returned to the Jedi Order. As her beloved's older brother, Tahiri and Jacen had always been close. When Jacen, now the Sith Lord Darth Caedus, approached her with an offer that would allow her to see Anakin again, just as he was before the Vong war began, whenever she wished, she simply couldn't refuse.

_Suddenly, the energy within her wasn't excusing itself as it coursed through her. It was meant to be there. The heat had become a fire that didn't burn. The energy was unhappy about the situation its host had been placed in. She could feel it. She could also feel something in that cordoned-off portion of her mind that the discontent now radiating from the energy flowing through her felt quite a bit like her own anger, but she couldn't be bothered with that right now. _

In his five year trip around the galaxy following the Vong war, Jacen discovered several new Force powers from civilizations that had developed in the absence of an organization like the Jedi Order. One of these was Flow Walking, and put simply, it allowed him to see into the past. With great concentration, Jacen could see the footsteps left in the Force by the millions of creatures that had lived before him. If the subject had been connected to him in some way, he could become part of the moment and watch their actions clearer than any holovid. One of his most frequest sunjects of observation was Anakin Skywalker, his great-grandfather. Another was the inheritor of that name, Anakin Solo.

_She began to spin again. Her arm wove the orange nothingness around her body, but it was becoming more difficult to tell what that limb was doing. Where her arm stopped and her torso became another arbitrary label that she didn't have time for. The energy rushing around her bones had efficiently erased the outlines of her various body parts from her mind._

_And then something began to form in her unconscious sight. It was hardly more than a wavering ball of red, but it existence infuriated her. It wasn't supposed to be there. The ill-defined form of crimson was the source of her dance's interruption. The lower part of herself, she reached past her anger at the intruder to recall the word "legs", tensed, then released. She was moving forward. Jerking left, then right, what had once been a formless collection of red was quickly shaping into six separate entities. Her anger grew. _

At first, it was difficult to bring another person with down through the Force's beaten paths. It took enough of his strength to carry himself the length of the journey. Bringing someone else, especially one as unstable as Tahiri, was a proper challenge. He dared not attempt to teach her the technique to perform herself, lest he lose the strongest card in his hand. With each attempt, the two of them got that much closer to the visceral imagery Jacen could reach on his own. With each attempt, the two of them grew closer.

_Just as the group of beings began to take human shape in her mind, her legs slowed, much the energy now rushing up her spine and into her arms. She shifted and dipped, danced and twirled. One of the beings, the intruders, burst away into nothingness. Then another. Then two more. The orange blade rose, then cut back down, and the last pair of beings faded into the darkness. She froze, the fire within her crackling and popping for a few more seconds. _

Over the weeks and months Caedus and his new apprentice made progress at partnered Flow Walking, he taught her in the ways of the Sith. He found it surprisingly easy. When he was teaching Ben, Jacen had found it incredibly difficult to help the younger man find and harness the powerful emotions needed to fuel Dark Side abilities. It was the exact opposite case with Tahiri. As he worked with her, he found that she was a nearly bottomless well of emotion; a torrential storm of fury and regret, of anger and passion. She took to the lessons quickly.

_And then came the cold. Ice rushed through her veins, violently pushing its way past nerve and bone. She could feel each part of her body as something separate again, and she didn't appreciate it in the least. Her jaw tightened, the sound of molars grinding against one-another painfully loud in her head as her body attempted to shiver away the cold sensation. It took several agonizing seconds, but she eventually regained feeling throughout her body. When the last of the chill left her fingertips, her conscious mind had returned, and there was an emptiness in her muscles where the wonderful energy had been. It wasn't gone: she could sense it hovering around her, everywhere and nowhere, waiting patiently for the next time it would need to step in. She loved it for that. _

_Her mind, specifically, the part that had spent the past few minutes shoved in a closet with the light off, was telling her that something was wrong. Something was different. But she was much more interested by this new empty sensation within her. It was fascinating. It needed to grow._

Speeches became lessons. Lessons became duels. Duels became battles. The battles were fierce, and often was the time when Caedus had to stop them before one of them killed the other. That was how the lessons ended sometimes. Later, they began to end differently.

_Then she sensed it: a being of both dark and bright light, a star that seemingly had the age of eternities, the experience of all sides of morality. She realized that star, this man, was why she was here. She was here to snuff out this wisened star. _

_As she approached him, she could see tendrils of light shooting from him, reaching out from his luminous self and touching thousands, millions of beings countless lightyears away. She had seen it before, it was the sign of someone who as at the center of a group, a person who represented a crucial point around which millions of lives revolved. Someone important._

Eventually, Caedus and Tahiri were able to travel to moments of Anakin Solo's past and see them clearly. She would often see a younger version of herself in these trips, an optimistic young girl who had broken free of a bleak past and saw nothing but a bright future. Many times, it brought her to tears.

At one point, the sounds of her crying were noticed by the young Solo they were observing. Flow Walking was a dangerous and uncertain ability, its inner workings completely unknown to any of its users. Before she had the chance to speak directly to Anakin as he investigated the sound, and in turn discover what happened to the Force when time looked at itself in the mirror, Caedus ended the session. Tahiri had understood his decision, but it continued to eat at her. Caedus' opportunity had come.

_She felt him gazing upon her, but he did not become threatening. The light that was his wisdom and humility only shone brighter as she brought her blade inches from his neck. This gave her pause. His acceptance of his fate, the lack of fear or uncertainty, at first represented a curiosity to her, but ultimately came to represent power. With each moment, each second that she held the glowing extension of her power at his most vital of physical connections, his resolve only grew stronger._

With her training progressing at a steady pace, Caedus had felt that it was finally time for her to make her next step forward. It was a week following his victory at the Battle of Kashyyyk. The Seperatists had been routed and sent running. Several of Kashyyyk's legendary forests were burned to the ground as a warning to any other planet that might support the Seperatist terrorists. Only one region remained that did not recognize his authority, the Imperial Remnant. With his popularity among the Alliance's public at an all-time high, Caedus approached Tahiri with a simple offer: Kill the head of the Imperial Remnant, and he would use his powers to allow her to communicate to Anakin Solo's Force ghost directly one last time. She agreed even quicker than he anticipated.

_That same small part of her mind that she pushed back earlier recognized this strength, grasped at it, clinged to it and claimed it represented true power. But the consciousness that was in control of her now did not see it as such. Instead, she saw it as a threat. _

Of course, Caedus had no such ability. Even if he could master the ability to commune with the souls of passed Jedi, said Jedi had to wish to be reached. Caedus was fairly certain that his younger brother wouldn't agree with what he was doing. Instead, he would reach directly into her mind and project an image of Anakin, feed him lines to say and emotions to show. He would do his lost brother justice, but ultimately he would use it as a tool to shape her into the weapon he needed.

_Such calm and wise power only stood to contradict everything she learned up until this point: that the pures of strength came from raw emotions. She let this renewed anger fill her, and with a single stroke that cost her no effort, her blade cleaved the star asunder. It did not burn out immediately, but instead dissipated over what felt like an eternity._

It was a masterstroke. Tahiri infiltrated the Imperial Remnant's headquarters posing as the Jedi of the Order she once was. Cutting her way to the top, cutting off every avenue of escape along the way, she killed Pellaeon, the leader of the Remnant. Moments later, as Tahiri made a show of attempting to escape, Jacen arrived and struck her down. Claiming to have been tracking the Jedi for sometime, he showed regret that he had not arrived in time to prevent the assassination of one of the galaxy's greatest men.

_Gilad Pellaeon was dead, and soon she would be too. _

Despite the decades that had passed since, leaders of the Remnant still remembered their vast force's destruction at the hand of the New Republic, led by the new Jedi Order. The Imperial Remnant bought it completely. While remaining independant of the Galactic Alliance, the Remnant threw its entire weight behind Caedus and his war against the seperatists. Tahiri's wound, while appearing very-much lethal, was a perfectly-placed strike that never put her life in danger.

Caedus returned to Coruscant with Tahiri, who was now dead to almost the entire galaxy. All of the Jedi knew she hadn't acted on their behalf, but few of them believed she hadn't been killed at Caedus' hands. Upon returning to their respective quarters deep inside the Capital Palace, Caedus reached into her mind and portrayed a perfect image of his young brother before her. There was every chance in the world that Tahiri would recognize Caedus' trick, but her desperate need to see Anakin once more easily overrode her better senses.

The projected Anakin was tender and loving. Caedus was able to feed off of her wants and desires and simply reflect them in the false ghost's actions. In the end, the image of Anakin Solo told her that what she was doing was right. He told her that his sacrifice would be in vain unless the galaxy could find a true state of peace, and that supporting Jacen was the surest path to that state. She and the false Anakin shared a long kiss, and the image was gone.

Afterwards, Tahiri collapsed under the weight of every emotion possible. She screamed. She punched deep dents in the durasteel walls. She cried. Following several minutes of this, Jacen embraced her, and several moist streaks were descending from his eyes. The image of his beloved brother, hearing his words, no matter how false their origins were, had been too much for him.

Tahiri did not return to her quarters that night.

Several months later, donned in the fearsome armor of the Galactic Alliance Guard, Tahiri stood several feet above the injured Ben Skywalker. She directed her glowing red Sith blade toward the younger Jedi and spoke.

"Dead or alive, Jedi. Your choice."


	18. Chapter 18

Part 18

"Dead or alive, Jedi. Your choice."

Ben stared up at the fierce woman atop the stairs before him. Holding a signature Sith lightsaber that glowed bright crimson, she did not have the same helmet and visor that he had seen on the two Galactic Alliance Guards he had just escaped from. She did wear similar segmented black armor, but the panels were smaller and tapered more, presumably to allow for more freedom of movement.

He locked eyes with her, hoping that she would see something in his eyes that would give her pause. He and Tahiri had never been close friends, but they had worked together several times and shared a number of meals at family and Jedi gatherings, which were often the same thing. He immediately noticed that her striking green eyes, the feature about her that had stuck with him from their few meetings, had specks of amber glinting within her cornea. Ben couldn't be sure, but he also could have sworn that her hair used to be much longer, as opposed its current military-style that ended abruptly at the base of her neck.

Tahiri came down two steps, her blade still directed at Ben, and spoke again. "I can tell your ribs are broken, and I would guess you're now carrying at least two sprains. Drop your lightsaber and I can guarantee you'll be taken alive."

Ben furrowed his brow as he was told the injuries his pain was confirming. The pain itself wasn't as much of an annoyance. At fifteen years, Ben Skywalker had experienced more than enough pain to learn to force it away like an errant thought. The multi-hour sessions on Jacen's Vong-inspired torture rack had sped that process up immensely.

"Alive, okay," Ben said. The words came with slight difficulty as he was still trying to catch his breath. He had gone from a full sprint to a full stop that resulted in his lungs having much less room to work. He was also stalling, knowing that Tahiri could strike him down in seconds with or without his current wounds. "I think I can work with "alive"."

Something came through the Force from Tahiri. When he had first gathered his strength and felt her in the Force, she was an impenetrable wall of determination. But with his agreeance to come peacefully, a feeling had poked its head through her emotional blockade. It wasn't quite happiness. Relief, perhaps? Relief that she didn't have to kill him, Ben hoped.

"That's a good decision, Jedi. Drop the lightsaber and we can continue this conversation in a turbolift."

Ben gritted his teeth. He knew that the second he was in a turbolift with a Dark Jedi and multiple GAGs, his mission was a waste. That wouldn't bother him nearly as much if he wasn't almost certain that Jaina was dead. However, he didn't know the fate of Zekk. He hadn't let out any sort of cry in the Force, and Ben had felt a burst of frustration somewhere up above that he immediately recognized as Jacen's, so perhaps Zekk had pulled it off.

Ben had his doubts, and this made the idea of capture all-the-more unacceptable.

Another ping in the Force caught Ben's attention. Several powerful beings were headed in his direction, and he was the only thing on their minds. Ben assumed correctly that these were the nearest Gallactic Alliance Guards rushing to close off his escape routes and surround him. If he was going to do something, it had to be now. He closed his eyes for just a second, long enough to figure out the shortest route to his final target. There were two GAG units along the way, possibly more the further along he would go. But he had to go, and he would have to go through them.

"Your lightsaber, Jedi!" Tahiri shouted, taking the rest of the stairs down and stopping three meters from Ben. Her outstretched lightsaber reduced that distance to two meters.

"Right, of course." Ben attempted a weak smile. His plan was going to take two separate, precise motions. He only wished his uncle Han could see it. If Ben pulled it off, anyway.

"Catch!" Ben shouted and tossed his lightsaber hilt toward Tahiri. During the brief moment it traversed the gap between them, he slipped his other hand into a small pouch at the back of his waist, produced a thermal detonator, and armed it. The Dark Jedi caught the hilt easily, but the ruse had worked.

Ben now stood straighter, holding the beeping explosive directly above his head, his thumb securely on the dead man's switch. The second his thumb left the switch, a brief timer would begin proceeded by an impressive explosion for an eight-centimeter ball. Tahiri did not step back, but her surprise betrayed her through the Force.

"I brought these to take care of the ship's engines," Ben said. "But I brought an extra." He swallowed and took a step toward Tahiri and her lightsaber. "You have five seconds to place my lightsaber on the ground, back away, and tell your men to hold their ground. I can tell them for you, if you want. Your master used to call me Gamma Two."

The explosive in his hand boosted the adrenaline rushing through Ben's veins. He didn't allow himself to believe that he was in any sort of control, but it was tempting.

Tahiri had been expecting a disappointingly-short lightsaber duel, not some Corellian-style trickery. She didn't know whether to be furious or impressed. A small part of herself was strangely satisfied that Ben was holding his own, but she didn't acknowledge it.

Tahiri asked, "What do you intend to do, blow yourself up and take out this unimportant piece of hallway?"

"Three seconds," Ben responded.

"Your gambit won't work, Jedi. The fact is that you have failed."

Ben forced himself to smirk. "Fact is just a point of view."

Before Tahiri could make sense of the ridiculous response, Ben reached out with his right hand and sent a wave of invisible Force directly at her. Then he threw the detonator. Acting on reflex and trusting in the Force's predictive nature, she dropped both lightsabers, gathered the energy in one hand to stop the Force push, and smacked the detonator back towards Ben with her other hand. In that moment, Ben used the Force to call his lightsaber back into his hand and launched himself back around the corner behind him.

Taking no pause, Ben rose to his feet and launched himself into another sprint. At his second step, the thermal detonator went off. The sound was fierce and reverberated through the bulkhead around him. He hoped it would delay Tahiri just long enough to give him the lead he needed to bop and weave through enough corridors to through her off of his trail. Ben wasn't sure how well he could mask himself while running at this speed and carrying two broken ribs, but it was the only option he had.

_"Attention all hands, attention all hands," _a male voice came over the ship's comms. _"All engineering floors are entering lockdown. If you are not at your post, enter the nearest station or designated security room immediately. All personnel remaining in open halls or rooms will be treated as hostile. Repeat, all engineering floors..."_

Good, Ben thought. They were concerned with the engineering decks. With all the chaos he wrecked on the ship's systems down here, Ben wasn't surprised. Fortunately for him, his ultimate target wasn't anywhere near these levels. He turned right and continued his sprint. Around the next corner were the two Galactic Alliance Guards he had picked up through the Force earlier. He activated his lightsaber and rounded the corner.

After the briefest of pauses, the GAG soldiers raised their blaster rifles and opened fire. Ben brought his blue blade around and deflected the first two shots into the surrounding walls. As the third one beared down on him, he had the time to position his lightsaber and send the laser directly back into the chest of the black clad soldier on the right. The armor prevented the bolt from penetrating, but the impact sent him to the floor. Still running, Ben spun right to avoid the next three shots. Ben approached them and cut the other soldier's blaster clean in half as he leapt over the stunned man, never losing speed throughout.

He reached the last turn he would have to make for a while. As Ben slowed to come around the corner, he looked back at the GAG operative still stand and sent a weak push in the Force towards him. Ben didn't see what impact it had on the soldier, but if it delayed a call about his current path for even a couple seconds, it was worth it.

Ben saw the turbolift door and was silently relieved. His knowledge of his old home-away-from-home hadn't failed him yet. He came to a stop and quickly slashed his way into the turbolift shaft. With this cluster of floors locked down, it was unlikely he would be seeing any actual lifts any time soon. He carefully stepped through the gap and balanced himself on a thin ledge around the inside of the shaft. Gathering the Force into his legs, he leapt five meters and grabbed onto the next such ledge above him. As he pulled himself up, the pain in his side began to return.

This was going to be a painful climb.


	19. Chapter 19

Part 19

Kyle Katarn, the war-worn smuggler-turned-Jedi, continued to stare at the life size hologram of Jacen Solo, now the Dark Lord Darth Caedus and head of the largest government in the galaxy. Caedus had just claimed that he was responsible for the deaths of both Jaina Solo and her lover, Zekk. Kyle was demonstrably furious, gritting his teeth out of anger rather than in response to the bandaged wounds that were currently protesting his being out of the medbay bed. Kyle clutched his hands into tight fists.

"That's typical Sith spin. You killed them," Kyle said. He paused, breathing through his flaring nostrils. "You killed your own sister."

The room of Jedi, technicians and soldiers, most of whom had already stopped their work to observe the conversation, became even quieter. Jacen began to instinctually turn towards the secret drawer behind him that now held the remains of Jaina's lightsaber. He stopped himself, instead looking at a nondescript corner of the ceiling and taking a breath before responding.

_"Jaina..."_ He trailed off, his focus remaining on the walls for several seconds before returning to the shirtless Jedi Master. _"She assaulted me. She snuck onto my ship, hijacked a secure turbolift, injuring two of my men in the process, and assaulted me. What was I to do, spread my arms and welcome death?"_

"In a perfect world," Kyle said without lowering his voice or turning away.

Caedus smiled. _"Now that I know what you are and are not capable-of, you are more than welcome aboard my ship to finish what you could not on Coruscant."_

Kyle was already at the limit of his anger. In his smuggling days, he would have become even more furious, reached a point where the fury became a focused mission to kill the son of a bitch, made a snide remark, and then shot the holoterminal. Instead, he took a deep breath while continuing to stare at Darth Caedus, and finally noticed something.

For as long as Kyle had known Jacen, the son of Solo had always made small gestures with his hands while speaking. It was a perfectly common habit, one he likely picked up from his exuberant father. But now, Caedus was only making short sweeping gestures with his right hand. His left arm wrapped around to the small of his back, hidden from view.

"Did either of them even manage to scratch you," Kyle asked, a calm slowly returning to his tone.

The question clearly caught the Sith Lord off guard. He fumbled with a response.

_"They each came close, but did no significant damage. You're no doubt disappointed, Kyle."_

A wry smirk appeared amidst Kyle's graying beard. "So to Sith, their left hand isn't a significant loss? What would count as significant then, your head?"

Caedus sneered and shouted, "Watch your mouth, Katarn! It was far more than anything you managed against my person."

Caedus' anger was exactly what Kyle wanted, and it helped remind him of what he knew all along: that the Dark Lord of the Sith was just an arrogant child raised like a noble with delusions of grandeur.

"It's alright, Jacen. With Tenel Ka so far away, at least you didn't lose your right hand."

The comment was childish, even Kyle himself knew, but the whole conversation was quickly degrading into entry-school bickering anyway, and being cramped up in the medbay bed for so long had made him antsy for some proper mudslinging. Caedus' brow twitched, his eyes widening with anger.

He took a second to compose himself before saying, _"As excepted of smuggler gutter slime. Immature comments such as that is why you're a bedridden relic of an irrelevant time, and I am the head of the Alliance. That does remind me, however..."_

Caedus brought his left arm around into view. Through a holocall, it was difficult to see much more than tattered strands of robe where his hand once was. He shook his arm lightly and the sleeve slid back, revealing an incongruous mess of flesh, tendon and bone. Blood was still dripping freely from the mangled stump.

Seeing the wound should have brought Kyle a dark satisfaction, but his newly-found calm allowed him to see simple progress. Caedus took Zekk's lightsaber from his belt, activated the blue beam, and casually brought it against his mangled left wrist. There were several gasps in the gallery from the non-Jedi. Kyle and Luke Skywalker were seemingly the only ones who watched Caedus' face instead of the procedure itself. They saw Caedus breathe deep and his eyes roll slightly back. Despite the quality of the holo, Kyle was certain he saw the Sith's eyelids flicker.

Just as a small tendril of smoke began to rise from his left wrist, Caedus deactivated the blade and replaced it on his belt. Had the holocall somehow been broadcasting in full color, as opposed to a uniform and static-ridden pale blue, they might have also noticed that his lightsaber blade wasn't red. That information, however, did not make it through.

_"There,_" Caedus said, _"That should do until I can see to a more permanent solution. Now, back to the business at hand." He turned towards Luke before continuing, "Your son is still-"_

A muffled sound came from the holocall, a voice not belonging to Caedus. He reached into his robes and withdrew something, held it close to his ear, then returned it.

_"Speak of the Force, your son has just been cornered by the leader of my Guard, a very skilled Sith herself. Ben should be under lock and key within minutes. These are my conditions for his return. A smaller craft of your choice will come to coordinates that I will send shortly. The shuttle will be crewed by two people of your choice and will be broadcasting a signal I will provide along with the coordinates. Once there, the ship shall be provided with further instructions."_

Luke sighed before speaking to Caedus for the first time since Kyle interrupted.

"I am sure this goes without asking, but what assurances do we have that you won't simply take these representatives hostage as well, or simply destroy the ship?"

Caedus returned to his calm, condescending smile and said, _"I know how futile it would be for me to ask you to take my word on this, so we'll approach it logically. What good would any of that do? I am the head of the Galactic Alliance, we have no need for hostages. Keeping Ben would not serve me in any way either."_

Luke noticed how Jacen interchanged the words "I" and "we", as though he was the face and voice of the entire Alliance. He also noticed how his nephew used the word "serve", as opposed to "help". With each word, his hopes of returning Jacen to the Light side of the Force diminished.

Caedus continued, "He has made it clear in the past that he has absolutely no wish to work with me any longer, and, setting aside the fact that I still care about his well-being, killing him would simply turn him into a figurehead for more separatists to rally around. If you want him, and I am certain you do, you are free to come get him."

Luke closed his eyes, calling on the Force to enter his mind and calm his nerves. His son was in the hands of a man who had proven he was perfectly willing to kill any of his own family to achieve his goals. It would mean risking several precious moments, but he had to at least get a small understanding as to how and why his son had ended up aboard the Anakin Solo.

"Give us a minute," Luke said, "We will contact you again on this frequency shortly."

_"I will await your reply,"_ Caedus said before briefly transforming into crackling blue static, then disappearing completely.

Luke looked up at the ceiling, swallowing audibly before sighing. This was some of the most emotion the Jedi Grand Master had displayed since his wife was murdered my Darth Caedus. After a minute, he removed his outermost robe and handed it to Kyle.

"Put it on," Luke said, "And follow me."

His words were quiet and focused. They could easily be confused for those of a meek man, but having known the Jedi master for longer then five minutes, Kyle knew that Luke was fighting back the fury of an exploding star. He did as Luke said and followed him out of the ops room, Jedi and technicians hurrying to give them space as they approached and entered the hallway to the wing's secondary hangar. Just as Kyle had finished shrugging into the large piece of brown wool, Luke stopped, turned back towards the ex-smuggler, and spoke.

"Kyle," he began, his words intensely precise. "I am about to give you an enormous benefit of the doubt. Please explain to me why son is in the hands of my wife's killer."

Looking into the eyes of the legendary Jedi, Kyle felt as though he was staring down the barrels of a large Imperial walker. Again.

Kyle said, "About a week ago, while we were starting to plan for that last attack on Coruscant, Jaina came to me. She was thinking the same thing I was: everyone was talking about the wrong thing. You were all focused on planetary defenses and fighter squadrons. Hell, someone even suggested going to the Hapans to ask for support again, despite the fact that she practically smacked your sister for suggesting she turn on Caedus during that Kashyyyk disaster!"

Luke's eyes grew very slightly before he responded, "Do you think now is the right moment to raise your voice to me and mock Jedi Leia Organa Solo's reasonable attempt at an alliance?"

For the briefest moment, Kyle was about to back down. Luke Skywalker was one of the few men in the galaxy whom Katarn felt deserved the respect his title implied, but this had gone on long enough, and it was apparent to him that no one else was going to say this.

"Yes, I do," Kyle said, forcing his hands to remain at his sides. "There was nothing reasonable about that plan. Tenel Ka and that sithspawn have been locked at the lips since they were kids. She's the mother of his child. For all we know, they slipped off somewhere before this started and got married. But a few choice words from the queen of an asteroid field and her depressed, washed up husband will surely undo twenty-something years of love, right?"

Luke was now breathing harder, and Kyle could feel the anger from him like a palpable ray of heat on a summer's day. He couldn't stop, though. He had come too far.

Kyle continued, "The time for diplomacy and fighting fair is over. It was over months ago. What Jaina and I agreed on was that the only real target we need to be focusing on is that maniac who, as you said, killed your wife. Don't think for a second it doesn't hurt me to say that either, Skywalker. She was a beloved student and friend of mine. Mara brought me back from a very dark place. We owe it to her to win this war, and the only way to do that is by bringing that bastard down!"

The leader of the Jedi Order continued to stare at Kyle for several seconds, the emotions fluctuating violently in the Force.

Finally, Luke said, "So you used the attack as a cover to send Jaina, Zekk, and my son on a suicide mission?"

"No," Kyle said and shook his head, "When we came up with the plan for the assault, she made it clear to me that she was going to be bringing a decent-sized Jedi strike team of our best people, Corran, Kyp, others. We agreed that Ben had to go because when he was working with Jacen, he taught Ben that same Force-stealth technique that Caedus has been using against us for so long. Ben was the only one who could sneak around and do the damage to Caedus' ship we needed."

"Damage to his ship? I don't understand"

"Luke, every time we have tried to kill this slime, he's had an out. Some trick up his sleeve, a distraction or surprise weapon or what-have-you. The only way to kill him was going to have to be cutting off every one of his options. The strike team attacks Caedus. While he fights them, Ben runs around the Anakin Solo tearing it apart from the inside. Most importantly, he destroys the entire shield systems."

Luke slowly began to nod, realizing where this was going, but allowed Kyle to finish.

"When Ben gives the signal, a Jedi is going to hop into every single fighter we have, Wedge and his best are going to fire up our last remaining Star Destroyers, and we're going to hop back into the Coruscant system and make sure Caedus' body burns with the rest of his ship."

The hallway filled with a thick silence. Luke turned around and looked out of the ceiling-high transparisteel at the sprawling sea of red and amber tibana gas clouds. His anger dissipated, and his mind wandered to the months following the Yuuzan Vong war. It was the first time since they had destroyed the second Death Star that had felt the galaxy had an honest chance at peace. It had been decades since he had experienced anything like that sensation. He longed to feel that hope again.

Luke continued to stare at the clouds as he spoke. "And what then? Say we kill Jacen. Where do we go from there?"

Kyle forced a sad smile, "Well, I was considering slipping off to Tatooine with Jan and shooting Corellian whiskey until I can't tell which end of a Lightsaber to hold."

Luke couldn't smirk or laugh, but his next breath was deep and much less forced. "That sounds nice." He turned around to face Kyle and said, "If Ben thought this was worth risking everything, than I do as well. Make sure Artoo is in an X-Wing with an open seat when we get the signal."


	20. Chapter 20

Part 20

Kyle Katarn turned from the aging farm boy and passed through the central hub of the Coalition in Bespin City. A hastefully-constructed circle of radar banks, communication relay stations, battle coordination transparisteel boards and more war-purposed equipment took up most of the room, leaving little space to move around aside from the center of the room, where a large holoprojector and comm unit was planted.

He slipped between the equipment, getting passing glances by several officers and at least one other Jedi. Having just been openly blamed for the death of Jaina Solo and her lover, Kyle was drawing understandable attention. He simply torqued his jaw and, his hand upon his wounded abdomen, worked his way back toward the Medbay. He looked up and spotted Jan Ors leaning in the doorway. She was giving him a look of concern, behind which barked a restrained bit of anger. Kyle knew the look.

"If you don't get back in this bed," Jan started, her tone mock motherly, "I am going to hop into the _Raven's Claw_ and find some nice Outer Rim planet to retire."

Kyle smiled, of course he would smile at that. He would smile at anything right now. He pictured the falling hand of Darth Caedus. He smiled at that too. Then, with urgency, Kyle realized the direction of his thoughts and shook his head, growling them away.

"Alright," was all that Kyle could manage with the distraction.

He stepped past her, watched her slip her arm around his back along the way. They reached the offensively sterile Medbay bed, which was still a mess from when he shot out of it to swear at Caedus. Kyle brushed aside the strewn wires and tubing and simply laid down, fighting the urge to groan as he lowered himself back. The bed was still upright at an angle, Kyle hadn't allowed them to lower it any further.

Jan sat to his right, her face mainly that of affection, but still retained a hint of frustration. She spoke again.

"I heard what he said, about you being responsible for Jaina and Zekk's mission. And I don't think he's lying. However, I do think there's a big portion of this tale that isn't being told. So, please Kyle, explain what happened during the few hours I haven't been in this room."

The old mercenary sighed heavily, swiped at his beard once, then finally looked at her.

"Jaina came to me. She was by herself. That look in her eye, that determined look you used to get when I came back with a blaster burn. She was clearly out for blood." He paused, picked up one of the removed tubes, set it down again. "I don't know what get her in that mood, I don't know if something had just happened. Whatever the case, she told me she was sick of the hit-and-run tactics and the hiding, and that Caedus needed to be dealt with. She called him "Caedus" instead of Jacen. I think that was the first time I've ever heard her call him that."

Kyle scoffed out of sympathy for Jaina. He wasn't nearly ready to grieve her.

"She wanted to know about all the old smuggling tricks you and I used to pull before I pulled that lightsaber out of Dad's droid. I figured she would know most of them by now, what with Han as a father, but apparently it wasn't something they talked about often. With as angry as I was after fighting that Sithspawn on Coruscant, I was happy to tell her everything she wanted to know. Most of me knew that she wouldn't actually put it to use on anything as insane as this. At one point she even suggested going to the Mandalorians for support, maybe even some personal training. She realized this was unrealistic, but the fact that she had the idea at all shows her determination. She's run Rogue Squadron for years, was made a Jedi Master, I thought I could trust her judgement.

"Apparently not," Jan said, immediately afterwards realizing the coldness of it, and gave Kyle an apologetic look.

Kyle shook it away and continued, "She wanted to know about radar shadows, ship-to-ship transfers, stealth tricks, and such. About halfway through the talk, I started to realize that she might actually be serious. I didn't hesitate to ask her, and she didn't hesitate with the truth. I just accepted it and continued talking, except now I was making plans as opposed to giving tips."

He raised his fist and slammed it on the bed's cushion.

"She did all the networking with Wedge and the other Jedi. After that conversation it took root. I have no idea how Luke never picked up on it. He's still simmering in his grief over Mara, I'm sure."

"Are you?" Jan asked.

Kyle continued to meet her stare. "Yes, I am. The Jedi code is strong, and the Force is stronger, but I'm still human and so is Luke. Decades of meditation can't change that. I made the decision to help out of anger. Mara brought me back from a very dark place, Jan, I've told you this before. We can pretend to be peaceful shamans all we want, only biting when bit, but nothing is going to change the fact that until Caedus is brought down, more people will die. A large member of the Coalition seemed to agree."

Jan leaned forward as Kyle laid his head back, the rush into the communication hub and the emotional conversations were finally beginning to catch up with him. He didn't bother to try and use to the Force to stay focused. He was saving his energy.

Kyle couldn't see it, but Jan bit her lip in indecision. Finally she stroked Kyle's arm and said, "Fine, but you're not going anywhere if this counter-attack happens. I don't care how much they will need pilots out there, you need me here more."

He nodded, though he was working the odds of her actually refusing to help the Coalition in one last big assault. Tiredness overtook him, a weak soreness filling his muscles. He closed his eyes and called upon the Force to enter his mind and he went into a weak Force Meditation.

Almost immediately he was met with a dream. The dream was powerful, so powerful that it could only be a result of his intertwining with the Force. The colors were vibrant and sounds were clear...

Kyle took another long, slow breath. He was crouched in the shadows, hiding in one of the highest rooms in Coruscant. It was the anteroom leading to a large balcony that oversaw one end of Victory Plaza. Standing abreast the balcony was Sith Lord Darth Caedus, known by the civilian world as Chief of State Jacen Solo.

At that moment, Jacen was in the final paragraphs of his victory speech, two weeks following the decisive battle over Kashyyyk. Jacen and his Fifth Fleet had won the victory, had won it terrifyingly and flauntingly, putting the final note on the rebellious Coalition's defeat by burning a large portion of the planet's legendary forests ablaze.

Jacen was now smiling and reaching his arms toward the crowd below. He had just announced the formation of the United Planetary Force. In summation, Jacen had requested that the space forces of all militarized planets in the Alliance dedicate themselves wholly to the Alliance's direct military control. This was then broken down by region, the original crewmen and officers rarely retaining their positions. Jacen said that the formation of the UPF would bring a swift defeat to the Coalition and save billions of lives, after which it would be disbanded back to its locally-run sprawl.

His apparent dedication to every single life in the Alliance, his military record, his Jedi-Special Forces mixed outfit, his smile; the people of Coruscant were eating it up. Rumor and whisper had begun to spread that Jacen Solo was actually a Dark Jedi, possibly even a Sith. The name "Kiaduss" was mentioned in hushed tones among the rumor mongerers of the mid-levels.

But Jacen's unrelenting PR campaign was working. Even when told that the Chief of State may be a Darth, people were beginning to question if life was really that bad the last time there was a Dark Lord in charge. Sure, the Empire was oppressive, but until the Battle of Yavin it had kept violence and battles in the galaxies to a low. A new generation had come into their own, and they didn't see Darth as the title of a mass-murderer so much as a simple military rank of someone who lost a war.

The public's apathy toward the Dark Side of the Force only grew when the government history archives suddenly removed the red tape from the file, the contents about Luke's period as the Sith Apprentice of the reborn Palpatine.

So Jacen was on yet another pause in his speech, forced by vigorous applause from below and around him. He finished the speech, thanking them all for their dedication and swearing that peace was just on the horizon. Kyle was watching the speech on one of several monitors in the room, having a good line of sight on the one on the desk of the guard by the door to the balcony.

Kyle was fighting with himself, his anger slowly boiling over into a steaming rage as the speech continued. That child, that traitorous piece of filth, Kyle thought. Despite there being no officially-recognized killer, Kyle knew that Mara Jade had died at Jacen's blade. How did he not see this coming? By the time the council was getting back from the funeral, Jacen was practically the Chief of State. He was here to the mistakes of his inaction in stopping Caedus. Caedus, Kyle thought again. He could no longer imagine the man as Jacen, son of respected fellow ex-smuggler Han Solo.

Kyle had fought the Empire, he had worn the infamous armor of a Stormtrooper himself at one point. He had even been in the room of an officer as he had a meeting with Darth Vader. Kyle knew the face of evil, and beneath the layers of make-up and metal that Jacen had coated it in, Kyle saw this face of the Alliance as the Galactic Empire, Mark II.

The speech was ending. Jacen bowed humbly toward the crowds, turned to his officers and governors, nodded toward each. He stopped in front of the door and two members of the Galactic Alliance Guard stepped out of inconspicuous points and into position around the Chief of State. The door openned with a polite, efficient hiss. Kyle saw them. Men with black armor and green-tinted visors were on either side of him. The Alliance guard at the desk stood to attention and saluted Jacen. Jacen returned the gesture with a quick, but not dismissive nod.

Kyle closed his eyes and took one last slow breath, exhaling for eternity. He closed his eyes and felt the three soldiers in the Force. The officer's mind was weak, but the wills of the GAG Operatives were surprisingly strong. Not quite as strong as a Reborn Jedi's, but these troopers had definitely been given some sort of Force-awareness by Jacen. He pictured the Guard members in black robes, long black hoods down, holding sickly white lightsabers. The allagory pulled Kyle's mind closer to the point of giving in to his anger.

But Kyle was stronger than that. He had seen the Dark Side, and had saved himself from it in front of Jarec, been saved from again by Mara. He would not walk that path again. Instead, as Jacen watched the crowds still cheering on one of the room's monitors, Kyle locked his mind onto the two Guards and the desk officer, gathering the living Force rapidly into his hands. Then he stood and released it.

The desk jockey went tumbling over his chair and the two hardened members of Jacen's secret police were lifted from their feet and slammed into the wall behind. All three moaned, but failed to rise. Before the first guard hit by the blast was done sliding down the wall, Jacen's lightsaber was in his hand and activated. The room took on a deep pink tint as the red blade extended from its hilt. Kyle's eyes widened. The new blade was sudden and violent confirmation of Jacen's status as both Mara's killer and the new Sith Lord.

Katarn had no time to process this as he felt Jacen's awareness upon him. The glass desk to Jacen's left rose from the floor and soared through the room toward the corner that Kyle hid against. The bearded Jedi leapt to his right and rolled to one knee. The desk exploded behind him, glass filling the air and sprinkling the floor. Kyle was quick to his feet and activated his blue Lightsaber, his forth, including the yellow blade given to him by a redeemed Dark Jedi and the orange-red one he took when he became a Dark Jedi himself.

"Katarn!" Jacen shouted. "Jedi Master Kyle Katarn, good of you to visit."

Jacen's tone was mighty, grand, and entirely condescending. He was still riding the high from the crowd's cheers and applause. Kyle's anger poked at him again, prodded, attempted to find ways it could seep and bubble to the surface. He fought it back, steadying himself, allowing the Force to embrace him. His words were like pillars standing through the strongest tides.

"I have been asked to call you Jacen Solo and tell you that you're under arrest. But I know you, I know that you're calling yourself Darth Caedus now, and I know that you killed Mara."

The smile on Jacen's face reminded Katarn of a Hutt as the Dark Lord spoke, "Well then, I guess formalities are taken care of."

As the two spoke, each knew that it would be pointless to attempt to attack during this exchange of words. They could feel each other's readiness in the Force. Jacen continued.

"I thought I had spotted your ship at Kashyyyk, but I couldn't be sure. If I remember, it's usually flown by your wife. Am I correct? You and I never had the quality time to talk that I had hoped for before all this happened."

Kyle shook his head. "You and I have no business to discuss, Sith. I take you in, dead or alive. It's up to you."

"Direct threats?" Caedus laughed. "I knew there was still some of what you old men call the "Dark Side" left in you. That is why you're here alone, aren't you? Knowledge of true power, a direct connection to the Force from the Valley, the skills of a smuggler to sneak past planetary defenses..."

Jacen trailed off as he noticed the ever so slight shift in Kyle's expression. The history and knowledge of the Valley of the Jedi had only been given to three people from Kyle and Jan: Luke Skywalker, Mon Mothma, and Admiral Ackbar. All three agreed that it should remain hidden from public knowledge. Kyle was now discovering this had failed. Caedus could feel Kyle's small hint of surprise.

"Do not think that anyone you gave the secret of the Valley to betrayed your trust. I have harnessed a skill, one which allows me to see the past through the Force. Before, I was only able to do it if I was at the location that it had happened, like standing in the crater to watch a scene where the building once stood. But my power grew, and an immense moment in the Force's past drew my attention. When you and Jarec threw the souls of thousands of dead Jedi into chaos, the Force took notice, and I eventually did as well."

Kyle took two steps forward, his lightsaber still at the ready. He was desperately trying to push back the fear that he might have given even more power to this rancor through his actions in the past. Never once did Kyle actually question the claim that Jacen could see the past. The Council had freely admitted that at this point, they knew nothing about his strengths, and even less about his weaknesses.

Jacen lowered his lightsaber into a casual grip, loose in his right hand, and continued. "Do not worry either that I have found the Jedi Valley, either. The Force shows me what happened, nothing outside it that may give me a clue to its location. But, as I'm sure you know, I will find it. If I am to lead this galactic nation to peace and prosperity, I cannot turn down the possibility of the knowledge borne from hundreds of generations of Jedi past."

"You don't want the Valley's knowledge," Kyle spat, "You only want its power."

Jacen spun his saber idly as he responded, "They are one-in-the-same, especially when dealing with the Force. But this conversation is at its end. No signal has been sent to any of my other men, they will not come for me for several minutes more. Now is the time, Master Katarn."

Kyle spoke, the anger in his mind beginning to seep into his words, "I warned you, Caedus."

Such a line was usually spoken immediately before an attack, but the attack never came. The two continued to stare upon one another, Jacen attempting to look casually-interested at best. At least, as he was only attempting in Kyle's view.

Then something shot into the air. A silver cylinder, from Caedus' robes. The cylinder burst into a beam of bright green as it soared toward Kyle. He ducked just in time and the spinning lightsaber flew past, cut through the wall behind, then headed back in his direction. This time Kyle stepped aside and sent a blast of pure Force at the spinning beam. The spin became a tumble and the lightsaber clattered and buzzed into a corner. In that moment, Caedus rushed Kyle.

The distance between the two disappeared and Caedus quickly brought his blade up from Kyle's lower left. Kyle smacked the blade away with his own and swung from Caedus' waist. The Sith Lord leapt back just enough to avoid the blue tip, and in the process brought his lightsaber around and down toward Kyle's head. Katarn swung up and around, pushing the strike aside and stepping in. He swiftly put his right elbow into Caedus' jaw. Out of raw reaction, Caedus raised his other hand and Force pushed Kyle away.

Kyle stayed on his feet and slid across the polished tile floor. The moment he had traction again, he stepped forward the struck down at Caedus' left shoulder. Prepared, Caedus met with a crossblock and parried his blade. Kyle did not imagine the Sith would ever be this physically-powerful. Even Desann wasn't quite as strong. Of course, Caedus' control of the Force was much greater than that lizard's.

Katarn blocked the next three strikes. Caedus was putting torque behind each swing, but Kyle was having none of it, the strikes failing to budge his lightsaber. They continued to strike and block and counter, slowly moving toward another door. A door that was shut.

Caedus' delivered a quick, swooping "S" that threatened Kyle's upper, then lower torso. Kyle leapt back and to the side, puting him close enough to the door's control panel to spin his lightsaber into a backwards grip and stab clean through it. The door lock shorted out, and Kyle easily used the Force to raise the door. He spun around through the opening and brought the door back down.

Taking two steps back, Kyle prepared for the Sith to come. He was stronger than he had imagined, but not outlandishly-so. Kyle still felt he could take him. Breathing deep, centering himself with the force, Kyle calmly watched the door protrude violently towards him. He stepped to his right, and the door burst out of its frame and soared past Kyle, brushing his robe. Kyle's right hand slipped from his lightsaber, grasped the grip of his vintage Bryar blaster pistol, and took a quick pair of shots from the hip, the Force guiding his already-legendary gun hand.

The shots flew true and Caedus did not have the time to bring his lightsaber back around to block them, his open hand already outstretched to remove the door. Kyle watched Caedus block both shots with his gloved palm. That was a technique that he had only heard of two people doing: Darth Vader, and fighter pilot prodigy and Jedi Master Corran Horn. Where Jacen had learned it escaped Kyle.

"Everything you do," Caedus said, now almost shouting, "Makes me believe you take the Jedi Code very loosely."

Kyle brought the enormous blaster up to eye level and fired several more times, but Caedus now casually blocked the shots with this red blade. The final shot came screaming back at Kyle. The bearded older man twisted aside and the bold narrowly missed. He felt the Force tugging at the blaster, knew that Caedus was attempting to tear it from his hand. At the same time, the Dark Lord ran at Katarn. He managed to break the pull on his blaster and quickly holstered it. His hand was hardly back to the lightsaber hilt before Caedus spun around a meter before he reached Katarn, carrying the spin into a very powerful swing.

Kyle blocked Caedus' strike, but Caedus continued to push, carried on by momentum and fury. The Jedi didn't know if he should try to counter, the strike carrying his own blade perilously close to his own torso. Kyle felt a quick break in the pressure and used to to redirect Caedus' weapon off to his left, only to see the Sith's gloved left hand rising into view and exploding in blue light. The lightning burst from Caedus' fingertips and struck Kyle's entire right side. A horrible combination of physical trauma and the pain of a thousand small blaster burns, he spun to the floor.

The Jedi threw his head back and allowed the Force to calm the pain. Smoke rose from the holes and burns in his robes.

Caedus rushed again, and as Kyle hurried to block the strike at his waist, he realized that they were in the tower's small hanger. The hangar was open-air, so there were several holes in the roof large enough for speeders and an open mouth where the far wall would be for larger ships to enter and egress. Kyle was quickly approaching the hanger's ledge. The hangar's gaping maw was covered by a translucent blue shield to stop unwanted visitors, but hangar shields were said to burn horrendously upon contact, not to mention the long fall after passing through.

He shook his head again, trying to focus as another strike came toward his left leg. He blocked, but the crimson beam came around at his shoulder, then the other shoulder, then his side. The strikes were fluid, meeting Kyle's for only the briefest moment. He had seen the style before, a quick and deceptive pattern. It could be overcome with strength. Kyle had to find that strength.

Kyle blocked an overhead strike and, shouting, pushed it violently up before Caedus had a chance to bring it around for another swing. He brought his lightsaber straight back down, but Caedus spun backwards. Kyle kept up the momentum, rushing forward and slashing up, around and down, then left, then right. Each strike was more fierce and focused than the rushed taps of Caedus, but they left enough strength within him to be prepared for a counter attack. Caedus was on the back foot, and Kyle kept striking.

In his mind's eye, he saw Mara Jade. He could see her smile, back when he was recovering from his time as a Dark Side Force wielder. Her smile. His strikes became weaker. Kyle shook his head again, trying to focus on the backpedaling Sith, but the images were too powerful. His mind wasn't just wandering, they were bring projected. She flashed before him and his next swing almost missed entirely. Caedus' easily stepped aside and thrust, and pure red light pierced Kyle's midsection.

He screamed, but the scream was as furious as it was reactionary. Kyle summoned the Force and pushed Caedus away, but the damage was done. Embers of smoldering pain lapped at his muscles. Things were shifting. The pain was beyond measure, unlike anything he had felt. He focused on the pain, and he found that he had more control of the Force. Kyle focused it on his wound and breathed in it, found it invigorating.

Caedus stared at Kyle, his smile slowly fading. Why had he not dropped yet?

The Force was building in Kyle, and it needed release. He knew exactly how, and it came to him as naturally as operating a dor knob. Katarn raised a burned right hand toward Caedus and opened it. Within his fingers was a fiercely-glowing ball of white and red. It warped the air around it as it honed in on the Sith. Caedus summoned the Force and flipped backwards as the hangar floor beneath him exploded.

Kyle saw the Sith land on very unsteady feet and smiled. He could win this, he thought. Then the floor fell out. The Force left him and pain soared up his spine. When he tried to shout, a strange twisting in his abdomen prevented it. He had embraced the Dark Side, and it drained him almost immediately. He dropped to one knee. Kyle raised his head and saw Caedus rushing towards him. He struggled to stand and bring his lightsaber to bear, but his hands were quickly losing feeling and the silver cylinder fell to the hangar floor. At least, Kyle thought, he had given the scum a better fight than the Coalition had at Kashyyyk.

As Caedus took one of only a few strides left between him and the dying Jedi, an explosion rocked the hanger. Caedus came to a halt, but stayed on his feet, immediately looking around for the source. He didn't have to wait long for his answer. The blue field of light at the end of the hangar flickered, sputtered, formed diagonal lines, then disappeared, leaving naught but open air. That air was then filled by the signature shape of the _Raven's Claw_, Jan and Kyle's long-necked fighter and shuttle. The cockpit's canopy was already opening and Jan Ors was leaning out, shouting.

"Kyle! Get in!" Her voice lowered in tone and volume when she saw the hole in Kyle's robes. She shifted the Claw around to face the open hangar, targeted Caedus, and fired several shots from the ship's turbolasers. The larger and more powerful blasts took both hands, but the Sith Lord managed to deflect them away. Kyle swore before closing his eyes, drawing directly upon the Force to carry his legs, and began a slow running pace toward the Crow. Just as Caedus began to give chase, Jan Ors let two proton torpedoes loose. The white comets launched a half second between each other.

Caedus dropped his lightsaber and extended both hands towards the projectiles. The first torpedo immediately jutted off into another direction and exploded into a far wall. The second one got within meters of Caedus before he was able to crush it. It detonated, and the shockwave carried Caedus tumbling back several feet.

Kyle saw none of this as he swallowed and leapt four meters into the cockpit of the _Raven's Claw_.

He heard Jan say "You shouldn't have gone in alone," before he slumped to the cockpit's floor.

That was it. He was drained. His control of the Force slipped, tapered and disappeared. The wound made itself known again in full force, and Kyle passed out. The canopy closed and the Claw turned toward the atmosphere. Light orange sky became silver-filled black, became black, became white.

The Jedi opened his eyes, and shivered slightly as he finally felt the sweat building on him. He looked down, saw his heaving chest, the bottom half of his Medbay patient bodysuit. Bringing his breathing under control, Jan leaned forward and tightly gripped his hand.

"Another memory?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, turning to her. "It was the fight."

She knew exactly which "fight" to which he referred, but said nothing, allowing him to continue. It was several seconds of looking up at the Medbay's light before he did.

"You said something to me when I got into the Claw," Kyle said, half-aware.

"I'm sure I did, Kyle. What does it matter?"

"You told me that I shouldn't have gone in alone. I almost had him, it was the element of surprise that we rarely ever get on that Sith. But I was by myself."

"What are you getting at?"

He sat up and faced her again. "He knows that we'll be coming. If he hasn't figured out that Ben is going for the _Anakin Solo'_s shield generators yet, he will soon. Caedus will expect a sizable strike force, like the one Jedi and Antilles are going to throw at him."

"So if he's expecting it," Jan said, trailing off.

"We need another arm of the attack. Something unpredictable. We need to throw some chaos into the mix. Chaos..."

Before Jan could admit her agreeance, Kyle was on his feet again. With the new focus, the pain wasn't nearly what it had been. He made his way back into the command hub and approached the nearest comm station. A Twi'lek in his mid thirties operating the station turned to Katarn.

"Can I help you, Master Jedi?"

"Yes," Kyle said, "Mind if I take the seat? I need to make a call."

The Twi'lek was confused at first, but was used to taking random commands from high-ranking Jedi at this point, and stood from the unit. Kyle nodded a thanks and sat, immediately working the comm frequency controls. He went well past the recognized Alliance and Coalition frequencies, reaching the upper limit of the dial.

"Sir," the Twi'lek began, "I don't know who you're attempting to reach, but there are no ships or stations using that range."

Kyle looked up at the younger officer and smirked. "They'll be glad to hear that you said that."

The confused comm officer twitched his lekku, but said nothing, having learned to simply let slide many things the Jedi said. Kyle hit the transmit button.

"This is Ale, calling Whiskey," Kyle spoke into the receiver. "Repeat, this is Ale, calling Whiskey."

A few seconds passed, both Jan and the Twi'lek giving Kyle curious looks. Then a robotic voice came back over the reciever. It was clearly a droid, but its voice carried a very human tone of disbelief and sarcasm.

"There's no one here. Please leave a message after I end the transmission."

Another voice, this one human, rose in volume as it replaced the droid's. The voice was male, older, rugged from years of drinking and shouting.

"Sorry about that, he still thinks he's funny. Is that really you, Kyle? You called on the old-school frequency, this should be good."

"It is. We're planning a surprise assault on the Fifth Fleet, a low orbit hyperspace jump right above Coruscant. There's someone on the inside about to give us an opening. Interested?"

"Are you kidding? I've been hearing nothing but bad news about Solo's kid running things for a while, and several of my favorite lanes have been shut off. Hell, a few of my closer associates just disappeared, and someone else told me that it was probably the new Alliance black ops team. If you're confident in this run, I can get the boys and girls ready to dance. Time?"

"About twenty minutes," Kyle responded, smiling wider than he had in a long time.

"Twenty? Why are you being so generous, and how are we going to kill those extra fifteen minutes?"

Kyle laughed. "Maybe you can use the time to learn to fly that ancient Corellian bucket of your's."

"Hey! There are still plenty of YT-2400's running around, and mine's the best. Damn sight faster than Solo's disc. Send me the coordinates and I'll have every smuggler with a heart on the way. After I get those three wrangled up, I should be able to convince a few more. See you soon."


	21. Chapter 21

Part 21

The splashes of molten amber bursting up from dimpled bulkhead. Flickers of blue light, soft glows surrounded by crackling circles of lightning, forming and then fading again. The ground beneath his feet shaking, jumping, his own flagship attempting to buck him from the saddle.

Darth Caedus stood alone in his cleared observational deck. The same deck, less than twenty-four hours ago, hosted both Jaina Solo and Zekk's bodies. It was clear again, droids having come and taken the various strewn shards of displaced chandelier. He was much more confident yesterday, he had much more reason to be. Sure, the Sith Lord reasoned, he had killed his sister, but her death was a necessary sacrifice on the way towards victory. She had thrown herself into the furnace, he reminded himself. He told himself. She had chosen, he screamed within.

That was yesterday, and it seemed that the Force did indeed have a sense of karma. A small curved sliver of the glowing city-planet Coruscant in the bottom of his vision, the rest of his view was full of death. He could feel it. Fear and pain filled the open space between him and the field of action like a thick aroma.

In his many practices before, he had either outright failed or, more often than not, couldn't tell if he had done anything. Such was the way with Battle Meditation: you need a battle to practice upon. Here he had one, and he felt that now was just as good a time as any for a proper test. Caedus lowered himself to his shins, leaning forward with his hands on his knees.

The _Anakin Solo_, the pride of the Fifth Fleet, was speckled and splotched with holes and fire. All along the length, small explosions in blue and green popped from the ship's upper and underside. Throughout the previous night, the Galactic Alliance Guard had failed to track Ben Skywalker. The last thing they knew was that he had taken a right down another series of hallways in an engineering level. Many side rooms, access paths, large conduits made for the likely conclusion was that Ben had gone into hiding again until he could sort out a plan.

This was also a solid assumption considering he was badly wounded. Tahiri, the GAG Unit Commander, had delivered onto Ben a broken rib, a wrenched ankle, and countless bruises. The boy would have to rest. Tahiri was not punished or scolded for her failure to ultimately catch the young Jedi. After all, her master was the one who had taught him the Force hiding skills that were keeping him free.

There was very little chance that Ben would be able to make it all the way up the dorsal tower, that he would be able to slip past some of Caedus' best officers, that he could slip into the primary shield regulation room directly under the starboard shield generator. And not once did it occur to him that Ben was capable of destroying the shield generator.

Darth Caedus was awash with dark fury when, shortly following the complete failure of his capital ship's shields, a field of Coalition fighters, gunboats, cruisers and battleships leapt into view. Ships were still exiting hyperspace when the first volley of turbolasers and projectiles launched.

It was hardly ten minutes into the battle and it was already becoming as fierce and messy as the battle the day before. The Coalition ships were acting much more aggressive, two having already attempted Ackbar Needles. One of them succeeded in the pass and an imposing Victory-II class Star Destroyer began to veer to starboard, its dorsal command tower floating away in another direction entirely.

He could also feel points of interest, intense gatherings of the Force, weaving in and out of the battle. At least two dozen Jedi were in the field of action, and most of them were rocketing around in SealthX's and XJ7s. It had occurred to him several weeks ago that Incom was making a fortune off of this war, supplying new fighters and ships in great numbers to both sides. It couldn't be helped.

One thing that was for certain: neither Luke nor Kyle Katarn had arrived yet. Caedus had a good sense of their signature in the Force and had been keeping a third eye out for them since the battle began. He could never admit it aloud, even to Tahiri, and even sometimes to himself, but those two were the gamechangers. They were the ringers. Luke was a truly dangerous foe in a test of Lightsabers and Force abilities, but Caedus could match him in that area. What Caedus couldn't come even close to, couldn't even begin to threaten, were the flying abilities of his Uncle. Luke was planning a surprise entrance and would violently shift the tide against Caedus, he knew it.

As for Katarn, the threat was obvious only to those wizened in history. Kyle did not use his Force powers, and he was sent on fewer Jedi-related missions than other Masters, due to his turbulent past. At first a violent gun for hire friendly to the Rebellion's cause, then the sudden discovery of deep Force control, followed by multiple trips to one of the Force's most powerful places of gathering: the Valley of the Force. From here, Kyle became immensely powerful, but chose to shun his abilities lest he fall to the Dark side.

Following this, he flirted with the Dark side, was then rescued by Mara Jade. After another trip to the Valley to reawaken his Jedi inclinations, Kyle lead the victory over a small army of unnatural Dark Jedi. Because of this, and despite the best attempts by the brightest Jedi, Kyle was still aggressive and emotional.

It seemed to many, Luke included, that Katarn's morals and beliefs were so strong, that it was alright to allow him his more expressive personality. Such a fierce identity was often considered a Sith trait, but Kyle's dedication to the Jedi had never been questioned.

Thus Caedus was concerned. He was not concerned about fighting Kyle Katarn, Jedi Master. He was concerned about fighting Kyle Katarn, angry mercenary and occasional nexus of the Force. If Kyle arrived and allowed himself to be taken by the Dark Side, their duel would go much worse than it did on Coruscant. During that fight, Kyle had only dabbled in his emotional side near the end, when the fight was already won by Caedus.

An entire fight against an unleashed Katarn would run on very different lines. Of course, all of this was becoming more and more irrelevant as the Dark Lord received more and more reports of failed this and overheating that. Despite everything, even knowing where he was not seconds ago, the Galactic Alliance Guard was still several steps behind Ben Skywalker. Jacen had taken a perverse pride in the boy's abilities before, but now they were a deep regret.

All that was past. It would still be several minutes before the _Anakin Solo_ was in danger of any catastrophic failure, so Darth Caedus leaned back on his feet, kneeling on the floor of his observation deck, and closed his eyes.

He took a deep breath, clearing his thoughts. Solid, coherent ideas becoming abstract concepts, fragmented syllables, and eventually dust and nothingness. They were replaces with an open mind padded with pure emotions. Within his Force-awareness, Caedus was attempting to feel and connect with every soldier and pilot around him, reach out to them, share with them emotions. It was a difficult task to implement on a unit of men standing meters from you. With his sphere of influence seemingly needing to reach kilometers around himself and pass through fast-moving fighters, this was going to be draining.

Crawling through the soft blue hue of the Force, he probed and prodded at the white hot amorphous blobs of life, attempting to find an opening. There were many to choose from, only a little fear or uncertainty needed to open the door. Then he made contact, finally touching the mind of an Alliance pilot in the cockpit of an X-Wing. The man was afraid, unsure that he really wanted to kill any more people, be them vile Separatists or not. Caedus saw the flash of an enemy fighter in the rear section of the radar. Warning lights activated, a siren blaring.

Caedus rushed feelings of anger and confidence into the man's tenuous consciousness, felt the man take a much-needed breath. There were two friendly fighters, A-Wings, just a few clicks starboard. Caedus reached out to them as well, found one of them susceptible to his influence. This pilot told his wingman about the fellow Alliance pilot in danger just over there, peeled off to help him.

The X-Wing pilot saw the two friends headed his way and smiled, almost laughing as a good shot from the Coalition dog brought the X-Wing's rear shields to nearly nothing. The first of Caedus' connections rolled right, then left, and finally slipped between the two A-Wings, whom immediately lit the Coalition fighter like a holiday crackler.

The risen confidence and comradere of the men was infectious. Caedus took it in, made it his own, imagined himself wiggling his hypothetical fighter's wings in celebration. He felt the men swell with pride, all three cranking their throttles to maximum and rushing back into the central conflict. He had done it. Darth Caedus had taken his first successful step into the startlingly-powerful world of Battle Meditation. Grasping this joy, turning it into a voracious need for more victories, he used the pilots' pride to increase his influence, and he soon found himself connected to an entire flight of X-Wing pilots. The effect was both subtle and powerful.

The men in the flight were communicating at an amazingly quick pace, often thinking to each other and executing actions before even utilizing the radio. Their bond was a false web woven in the Force, and it directed them in elegant and ruthless patterns of attack. Under Caedus' control, not a single contact was lost, while they proceeded to take down at least fourteen Coalition pilots.

This continued on for several minute, Caedus connecting dozens of his pilots and officers in a network of near-instant communication and prideful teamwork. The battle was shifting, its implications and patterns changing. Darth Caedus could feel some of the Jedi observing his intricate works, several even attempting to tests waters, discover how deep they ran. With the Battle Mediation technique's history and relative obscurity, he doubted any of the Force users here for his life would be able to counter his influence short of crashing their snubfighter directly through his transparisteel view. He had made sure that the tower's focused deflector shields were the first things restored during the chaos to prevent this.

Then Caedus' boastful pride took a proverbial nosedive. Shining like a beacon in stormy ocean waters, the Sith Lord immediately felt the presence of Luke Skywalker enter the field, followed by several pilots, intent and purposeful.

Rakehell Squadron was in play, along with countless mercenaries and bounty hunters in various transports and cruisers.

"Ah," Caedus said quietly, "The cavalry."


	22. Chapter 22

Part 22

Dash Rendar hauled back on the hyperspace throttle in the center of the console before him. The mottled blue cylinder of warped space that encompassed him shortened, became fatter, expanded around him. Light blue shifted to navy, navy shifted to black, and searing streaks of ice blue compacted into thousands of little white dots.

He had always liked jumping into hyperspace, but the return to normal space was really where the kicks were. Hyperspace always looked the same, every time a ship returned to the laws of physics, there was a different view awaiting it. Sometimes it was a stunning multi-stage eclipse, sometimes it was a solid wall of turbolasers and anger. But no matter what, one could never be quite sure what was going to be on the other side of the jump. Rendar loved that.

This time, he was met with a familiar scene. Large battle ships of Imperial and Mon Cal design were exchanging fire while at least a hundred star fighters and gunships danced between them. His threat tracker lit up like a small model of Coruscant, the planet on the other side of the fight. X-Wings, A-Wings, TIEs in all sorts of flavors flashed over his target screens. Rendar was reminded of one of the things he had actually liked about the Galactic Civil War: the sides were proprietary. If you flew with a trident on your head, you shot at TIEs. If your jumpsuit was covered with cogs, you shot at stunt fighters and anything with S-Foils.

Now, however, the battlefield was a horrible cavalcade of every fighter imaginable. For every model fighter that the Alliance was using, the Coalition was using a few as well. This meant pilots were forced to take split-seconds to check their threat indicators to make sure they weren't about to blast their flight leader into the vacuum. Dash sneered, lamenting the days of exclusivity contracts.

Dash turned to his right and spoke, his voice a deep slush of gravel and broken shot glasses. "Leebo, give the rest of the bandits the green light."

Rendar's droid and co-pilot replied, "Yes sir, because this roundtable of smugglers were going to wait for a signed affidavit before hopping into a fight."

The bounty hunter smiled. He had learned long ago to not fight his droid's sarcastic programming, and it had since become somewhat endearing. Sometimes he wished the bucket of bolts would do its job without dry retorts, but then Dash imagined himself trying to work with a C3-series protocol droid or a panicky astromech and the comedic Leebo was appealing again.

This wasn't the first job that Rendar had taken for free, but it was likely the biggest. In under half-an-hour, he had managed to wrangle together a flight of over forty independent fighters, light freighters, cruisers, gunships, and uglies. The really difficult part had been convincing them to take the job without any guarantee of pay. He was sure that Skywalker would give them a trifle of credits if they won, but the Jedi believed in something that smugglers and mercs very much did not: goodness for goodness' sake.

Rendar was able to win over the last of the hold-outs by transmitting around pictures of Jacen Solo flashing that smug, housewife-crippling smile. They had no problem with an arrogant piece of trash sharking a few floating casinos, but the cavalcade of rogues took umbrage with him being at the helm of the primary force in the galaxy.

At least Vader was honest about being an oppressive prick, the bearded mercenary thought.

Dash leaned forward and activated the comm. "Skywalker, this is Dash. Unless that Force of yours has some special plan for us brigands, we're just going to jump into the fray and see how much of the Alliance we can turn into salvageable scrap."

Jedi Grand Master Luke Skywalker, along with about fourteen other Jedi, was about half a kilometer off Rendar's starboard side. "Rakehell Squadron," they were known as. They were in the latest series of X-Wing fighters, as opposed to their signature Stealth-Xs. The stealth fighters would have been useless in a battle like this, with their weak hulls and lessened armaments. Dash never pretended to know too much about the Force, but he was pretty sure the stronger Jedi could feel each other with some weird sixth sense, and he was equally sure that Jacen would pick up on Luke's arrival like a sun going supernova.

The Jedi Master's tone did not share Dash's confidence. "_No, Dash. Unless I say otherwise, your objective is to engage and thin out Alliance forces wherever possible. We will be shifting tactics in time, but for now, do what you do best."_

The mercenary couldn't help but smile. He knew exactly what Luke assumed they "did best", and the Jedi was absolutely right. The "what" was nothing short of chaos, and Kyle Katarn had made sure that the best agents of chaos were here right on time.

Dash began flipping switches and turning dials, shifting power and his ship's processing power to his guns and shields. "Leebo," he said without looking at the droid, "You're on guns. I've got the stick and launchers. Make sure not to toast any friendlies, it's gonna get complicated."

"When is it not, sir?"

His smirk remained as he smacked the comm controls again. "This is the _Outrider_. You all heard the old monk. Run-and-gun, try not to hit one of our own, and so-on. Have some fun with it."

The voice of an older woman with a slight purr came back over the speaker. "Starlight Intruder _here. We always have fun. We're fun-loving people._"

"Salla," Dash said, "Any idea if that poor excuse for a pilot ex-boyfriend of yours is going to turn up?"

"_Han would never miss something like this. He'll show up just before or after the nick-of-time."_

"Figures. Alright folks, let's be big damn heroes."

Rendar shoved the throttle forward and started scanning for the nearest targets. His radar showed the rest of the mercenaries breaking off in other directions, likely to avoid catching each other's prey. Rakehell Squadron started a wide arc to his right that would bring them in much closer to the Alliance's half of the conflict. He decided not to concern himself with them unless they called for him.

This was unquestionably the most dangerous space conflict he had participated in for quite some time, but it was difficult for him not to get nostalgic. The chaos of the multiple parties involved and the ever-present knowledge that several important figures were participating brought back vibrant images of the Skyhook Conflict. It used to be called the Battle over Coruscant, but the number of those had reached double digits long ago.

Dash's signature ship, a heavily-modified Corellian YT-2400 light frieghter christened the "Outrider", was a more compact and generally-improved descendant of the infamous YT-1300 design. The ship had a long-standing rivalry with the _Millenium Falcon _that had even become public before Rendar faked the Outrider's destruction, along with his own demise, after the Skyhook Conflict.

After that, Rendar went back to running weapons and cargo without the burden of a flag to fly under. During the Yuuzahn Vong invasion, when it became apparent that the entire galaxy was at stake, he had flown a series of secret bombing and sabotage runs on Vong bases with a number of other smugglers.

Most of the smugglers now engaging Alliance forces had made those runs with him.

"Targets incoming, sir," Leebo said.

"I see 'em."

Red brackets formed around two Alliance X-Wings a few kilometers away. They were in the process of making a wide turn back towards the battle and apparently hadn't noticed the Outrider. Without a word, the droid to Dash's right began to pour a stream of red light into one of the fighters. Its shields appeared, crackled away, and the fighter exploded in a ball of paneling and framework.

Before his friend could react, the Outrider's turrets shifted slightly and gave him the same treatment. Dash banked around the expanding sphere of parts and continued forward. What Leebo lacked in comedic ability or protocol, he made up for in laser work.

Dash put his sights on a group of three TIE Interceptors, but before he came into range, a pair of Coalition A-Wings swooped into view and blasted two of the dagger-winged fighters to pieces. The remaining Interceptor gave chase as the A-Wings passed, but they broke off in separate directions. The TIE followed one and gave chase for a few seconds before the second stunt fighter completed its loop and put several pairs of laser bolts through the spherical cockpit.

Just as Dash was about to smirk at the textbook fighter jockey work, the lead A-Wing erupted into two large balls of blue flame. Four X-Wings his computer designated as Alliance-oriented were headed directly for the remaining A-Wing from the center of the battle. With a quick gesture, Rendar connected his comm to the now-lone stunt fighter's.

"A-Wing, break toward the Corellian ship off your port. Dance a little bit."

There was a second of silence before the pilot responded. "Acknowledged." The pilot's voice was shaking.

The A-Wing turned towards the Outrider just as the X-Wings came into range. Dash gave the Outrider a kick and sped past the A-Wing. Before his targeting computer could even get lock, Leebo opened fire on the left two snubfighters. The X-Wings nudged apart just enough so that the blasts soared harmlessly between them. With a continuous motion, Dash shifted all shields to front, acquired lock on one of the center fighters and let a concussion missile fly.

Instead of attempting to dodge the oncoming missile, the X-Wing attempted something even Rogue Squadron veterans rarely tried: he began firing at the missile. The rocket exploded several hundred meters before its target. The X-Wing banked up to go around the missile's concussive wave. Reacting with impressive speed, Leebo took that moment to fill the crafty fighter's underside with laser.

The X-Wing exploded like the ones before, but something started to trouble Dash. It was a small issue, easily pushed to the back of mind but impossible to ignore. The remaining three fighters had just enough time to pepper the Outrider's shields with less than a dozen shots before they passed. Rendar evened out his shields and came around to give chase. He expected to catch the X-Wings coming around for another pass at him, but instead watched as two proton torpedoes soared from the trio of snubfighters directly into the other A-Wing's large engines.

Just as the snubfighters came into the center of his viewport again, each fighter peeled off in nearly perfectly-separateddirections. The Outrider's two turrets followed the one that went off port and managed to catch one of its engines, blowing off the attached wing and sending the fighter into an ugly spin. Dash attempted to track the remaining two Alliance fighters, expecting them to form up again, but it looked like they were headed toward other parts of the battle.

A non-human voice shouted in Basic over the Coalition channel, "_Where did these bastards learn to fly like this? I've got three squints dancing all over my six and-"_

The pilot cut-out in a brief scream. That little feeling continued to nag Dash, but he pushed it aside once more. Another voice came over the radio that caught Dash's attention.

"_Starlight Intruder here, got some Defenders swarming me, wouldn't mind a little intervention."_

"Leebo," Dash began, but the droid interrupted him.

"Already there sir. The Intruder is designated on your radar."

"Got it." He leaned closer to the comm. "Hang on, Salla, I'm headed your way."

The Starlight Intruder was relatively close and the Outrider had the ship in view within seconds. Two TIE Defenders were weaving around the medium-size transport with precision, mixing strafing runs with incredibly-tight passes. It was strange to see the larger Imperial designs to move so deftly. He lined the Outrider directly behind the Intruder to minimize the chances of hitting it, and Leebo opened up on one of the Defenders the moment it finished another close pass with Salla's ship. The TIE broke apart, its multitude of wings folding in and tearing through each other.

Rendar watched the turret's targeting reticule close in on the second Defender, but the six-winged Alliance pilot turned straight down away from both smuggler ships. At that same moment, the distinct alarm of a missile lock rang throughout the Outrider's cockpit. Dash swore as he saw that two X-Wings were hot on his tail. The alarm raised in pitch as a proton torpedo was fired in his direction.

The aging mercenary cut the primary thrusters to quarter output, used his vectoring engines to tilt the ship up, and held his breath the length of the second it took the projectile to come within a hundred meters. Then he slammed the throttle to full again and the asymmetrical disc shot away. The torpedo passed through the Outrider's engine wake and, with missile lock broken, soared off to destinations unknown.

"Leebo," Dash began, "Are those the same X-Wings that were giving us hell before?"

"Their designations match, yes."

"Strange."

He brought the Outrider up and around in the tightest turn the YT-2400 could achieve, and Leebo was already pumping red laser in the general direction of the snubfighters before they even came into view. The pair of fighters separated, closed again, spun around an invisible axis, closed again, dodging every shot that their shields didn't deflect.

That nagging voice was now shouting in Rendar's head. Something was very, very different about the way the Alliance fighters were moving.

Then the right X-Wing exploded.

Dash followed the trail of shots back to the Starlight Intruder, which had apparently managed to keep up with them. Apparently caught short by his wingmate's demise, the last X-Wing finally ate four blasts straight into and through its fuselage from the Outrider.

"_And now we're even," _Salla said slyly over the comm.

Rendar couldn't respond. He was too distracted by the way the fighters had moved. Their intricate dogfighting was impressive, as if the Alliance pilots were communicating almost instantaneously. Dash was even starting to wonder if those TIE Defenders had known the X-Wings would be coming back around before he had gone to help Salla. His suspicions were given firmer ground when a clearly shaken Luke Skywalker started speaking over the channel.

"_This is Rakehell Leader. Change of plans. Dash, I need you and the scoundrels to open up some space around the _Anakin Solo. _Clear a path if you can."_

"That'll put us in the middle of the Alliance fleet. You sure, Skywalker?"

"_Yes. Something is wrong in the Force, and if Jacen's Star Destroyer stays active for much longer, the Coalition is doomed."_


	23. Chapter 23

Part 23

Darth Caedus sat cross-legged on the cold metal floor. His eyes closed, his hands resting upon his knees, the Sith Lord was nestled deeply within the Force, his consciousness nearly entirely separate from his one-handed physical form. He was at the center of a sphere of his own creation. He touched and heard everything within this sphere. Every deck hand, officer, pilot and Jedi was within his reach to varying extents.

Caedus could feel where people were headed, where they had been, what their strengths and weaknesses were. Within this chaotic space he even saw semi-solid shadows, like humanoid-shaped concentrations of vapor. They were spots where lives had once been, where they no longer were now. There were two of these gaseous death markers floating in space they were special. Their notability was that, instead of slowly dissipating, they had become burning singularities in Caedus' vision of the Force before bursting into specks of light. His men had managed to take down two of Rakehell Squadron's Jedi pilots.

The Battle Meditation technique Caedus had been using to influence the clash was apparently working. Casualties had been relatively low on the Alliance side, where-as the Coalition forces were dropping like flies. The standing exception to this were two groups, ringers the Coalition played to try and tip the battle in their favor. One was Rakehell Squadron, the Coalition's own Rogue Squadron comprised of Jedi and ex-Rogues. Caedus had fully expected their arrival, welcomed it, in point-of-fact. The opportunity to thin the Coalition Jedi numbers without having to face them in melee combat was one the Sith Lord embraced.

The other group was a motley crew of smugglers, bounty hunters, and mercenaries. They were all connected to each other through vague partnerships and shared smuggling routes. High Commander Preyl, Jacen's second-in-command, had already identified several of them as old friends of Jacen's father. What these scoundrels brought to the conflict was something Caedus hated: chaos. He had to admit their presence was a stroke of brilliance, and correctly concluded that Luke Skywalker had little to do with their presence. Taking an educated guess, he presumed that they were Kyle Katarn's attempt at revenge from his medbay bed.

Chief among these usually-unaffiliated ships was the Outrider and her captain, Dash Rendar. Jacen knew of him only from historical texts and vague reports. After striking a crushing blow against the millenia-old crime syndicate, the Black Sun, he faked his own death. Rendar popped up decades later, apparently quietly helping the fight against the Yuuzahn Vong. But while Jacen had been on the front lines of that horrific war, eventually captured and tortured by the disgusting Vong, Dash had led a group of rogues and bastards in quick gun-and-run campaigns against the Vong's weakest fighters, the Peace Brigade. The Sith Lord's opinion of his father's old smuggling partner and rival was not high.

This opinion was even poorer at the moment, as Rendar and his smugglers were beginning to corrupt his perfect sphere of influence. The appearance of these unpredictable and deadly craft was playing hell with his men's morale, and morale was what fueled Battle Meditation.

Darth Caedus decided to take a more direct approach. His mind swam through the battle, floating harmlessly through explosions and screams, finally finding his target. A group of four atypical ships, including the Outrider and Starlight Intruder, were beginning to shift in his direction. A quick tap at Rendar's mind, like one's light rasping of a knuckle on a front door, told Jacen that an intrusion into Dash's mind, while possible, would be difficult and take too long. However, mere meters from him, Caedus found another mind. The consciousness was female, older, battle-hardened but not without great emotion.

She was distracted, and the Dark Lord made his move. In the span of a second, he had ransacked her mind of thousands of names and images, precious moments of victory and loss. Among them he found an image of a rare romantic embrace with... his father? Curious, he though. Jacen knew that his father, as a male Corellian ship-owner, had participated in any number of one-night stands before he met Leia Organa. However, this memory seemed stronger. It reeked of love and dedication, with aftertones of longing. This would be easier than he had thought.

Lord Caedus knew that his father, Han Solo, was nowhere to be found. The Sith was thankful for it. The Millenium Falcon's presence alone was often the morale boost that could mill impossible victories out of hopeless situations. In fact, he could tell that this woman was wondering why he hadn't shown yet. Grasping that thought with both hands, he expanded it, wove it into other parts of her mind, made it pulse like a beacon. There must be a reason he isn't at the battle, he could feel her think. Maybe Han thought the battle was truly hopeless? Perhaps he had abandoned them, maybe even finally deciding to turn on the Coalition and join his son's side.

The thoughts were thick and black and ever-expanding. He felt her increasing depression, embraced it, doubled it upon itself. Caedus felt confusion from several of the other smugglers, including Rendar. She must be talking on the comm, he thought, spreading her fears. Then the connection was severed, and the woman faded into a thick smoke within the Force. The shift of the smugglers' typical courage was palpable. Another puff of vapor as one of the other unregistered ships met its destruction.

"Wait..." Jacen muttered. A hole was forming in his Battle Meditation, a rippling tear in his network of puppetry. It began just behind the smuggler "squadron", but was quickly growing stronger. In the scant minute he had spent wrecking havoc with the agents of chaos, Rakehell Squadron had become a spearhead of destruction. Jacen could feel his men falling in wake of the Jedi pilots. It was a metaphorical fireball, and it was headed straight for the Anakin Solo. With urgency, he helped the majority of his forces notice Rakehell Squadron and direct them towards the Force-protected X-Wings, but it was too late. Caedus could already see that the Jedi were going unleash hell upon his flagship.

Dark Lord Caedus stood, smoothing out the transition from his near-omnipresent state within the Force to his more literal physical being. He shook his head and stared out at the battle. Coruscant's sun reflected off the thousands of chunks of ship and glass, creating a hauntingly beautiful field of fragmented light against a backdrop of weapons fire and death. He took a deep breath and was completely returned to his own body, and his left hand screamed furious pain at him. He brought his arm up and saw only open air where his mind swore that his left hand still was. Phantom pain, a glitch of the human mind.

Caedus knew that he would still be able to use that arm to manipulate the Force, but not quite as well until he could get a prosthetic. Despite how little the Force itself cared about one's physical state, Jacen's control was still based in his knowledge of himself, and with his left hand now nothing but floating particles after being caught in the explosion of his own lightsaber, that knowledge was out-of-date.

The Dark Lord pulled a small comm unit out of his cloak and spoke.

"Commander Preyl, what is the status of our shields?"

_"Not good, my Lord," _the older man responded, worried but still retaining control of his faculties. _"Our back-up systems keep going down and our technicians are unable to get to the secondary generators. We sent a team of them along with a full guard, but we haven't heard from them for some time."_

Ben, Caedus thought. Apparently Tahiri had been unable to stop him. The last he had heard from his secret apprentice and occasional lover, she had subdued the young Jedi. What had happened?

"I will take care of it. Prepare another team of technicians to go in and restore the shields on my command." Caedus sighed quietly. It didn't carry through the comm, and he continued, "Meanwhile, put the ship on red alert and send all non-essential personnel to ships for evac."

There was a pause. _"Sir?"_

"There is a squadron of X-Wings coming in at approximately 10 o' clock. Focus all fire on them. They are Jedi and have our destruction in mind."

Preyl had learned long ago not to question how Jacen could know such things without access to any radar or radio equipment.

_"Shall I prepare your ship as well, Sir?"_

"Yes, and make sure you have a plan for egress yourself."

_"I shall leave after you do, my Lord."_

Jacen smiled lightly. Preyl felt more like family lately than anyone carrying the Solo or Skywalker moniker. The Sith Lord would see his death as a great loss and decided that it was not necessary.

Jacen said, "I should not have to remind you about our discussion on the differences between loyalty and stupidity, High Commander Preyl."

_"Of course not sir. My shuttle shall be ready."_

"Good. I am headed for the secondary generators. Have that tech team ready."

_"Yes sir."_

Caedus reached into his cloak's pocket once more, swapping the standard comm stick for a black-colored one. He flipped a switch and attempted to suppress his aggravation.

"Gamma One, what is the status of of the target?"

Caedus heard deep breathing from the comm, followed by a few blaster shots, a scream, and some vulgarities. Finally, Tahiri responded.

_"That was the last of this part of Gamma Unit, aside from myself. The target is faster than thought. He's playing games. I have been unable to catch him, but his is still wounded. I have already called for the rest of Gamma Unit to assist."_

"Negative, cancel that order. I am sending them to their ship for transport to one of the other Destroyers."

_"Excuse me?" _Her irritation was reinforced by the obvious frustration being generated by Ben's resistance. _"Jacen, what the hell is happening?"_

Upon hearing his old name on her tongue, he closed his eyes, reaching into the Force for calm before responding. "Tahiri, the rest of the Jedi are here. There are equal odds that the Anakin Solo is about to be destroyed. I am on my way."


	24. Chapter 24

Part 24

People think that the best environment in which to be stealthy is at night, or some sort form of darkness. Lots of tight corridors or large pieces of cover like trees or buildings, moving slowly, measuring out each footstep, opening and closing doors over agonizing minutes, taking even longer to plan out each meticulous movement.

Kyle Katarn felt that sneaking and crawling around in the dead of night was all well-and-good, but if you really didn't want to be noticed, you simply had to find something louder than yourself. Have to shoot someone during a storm? Wait for a crack of thunder. Want to slip past some guards? Wait for some pompous General covered in metal to make a big appearance and squeeze in behind the pomp and circumstance.

Need to use a small craft to quickly board an enemy vessel? Just fly around the large battle it's participating in.

Kyle, an aging, wounded Jedi Master, turned to the middle-aged Jedi at the controls of their craft. It was a Corellian YT-2000, a simple disc shape with the signature YT-series conical cockpit protruding straight out of the center. The ship had been given the name the _Soaring Light_. The name as was nonsensical as most of the titles given to these easily-obtainable ships. Kyle allowed himself to muse on the subject to help distract from the upcoming task. The _Raven's Claw_ or the _Ourider_ were perfectly sensible names, Katarn surmised, but he had no idea what a "falcon" was, much less why there were a thousand of them. Still, he admitted, they had more charm than the somber tradition of naming larger military vessels after beloved dead leaders. He had met both Admiral Ackbar and Mon Mothma on several occasions, and wasn't entirely comfortable riding inside something sharing their names.

The Soaring Light was apparently one of several such vessels owned by the Jedi Order and used for various missions. It was armed with a rotating turbolaser turret atop the center of the disc, and a pair of projectile launchers on either side of the cockpit.

An explosion a few kilometers off their starboard brought Kyle out of his tangent. The brief fire cleared to reveal the remains of a Coalition Y-Wing. The perpetrator was a TIE Defender, a vicious series of dagger-like wings encircling a classic TIE ball cockpit. At first it looked like the Defender would be heading back toward the center of the conflict, but moments later slowly came around and sped along an intercept course for the Soaring Light.

"Kyle," the pilot began, "Would it be too much trouble to discourage our new friend?"

"On it," was his brief reply as he opened himself to the Force.

Katarn reached out through the network of phasing life and immediately saw the glowing spirit of the Defender's pilot. He touched the pilot's mind with a subtle gesture, convincing the pilot that the small Corellian craft was a low-priority target, and that he was needed much more back at the primary battle.

The TIE Defender peeled off, again heading back towards the flashing collection of fighters and capital ships.

"Do you dislike mind tricks as much as I do," the Jedi pilot asked in a tone that didn't imply he expected an answer.

Welcoming the new distraction, Kyle entertained the idea anyway. "What do you not like about them, Kyp?"

Kyp Durron, once responsible for the destruction of an entire solar system, now reformed and esteemed Jedi Master, ran his hand through his lengthy dark hair. It was a motion he did without a thought, a tick that showed either nervousness or thoughtfulness. Katarn had picked up on it almost immediately after meeting the man some time ago.

Kyp shifted the _Light_ slightly to port, making their path around the battle slightly longer, and finally answered.

"I was a slave for most of my childhood. After that, I had a Sith Lord inside my head, telling me which buttons to push. So, to be honest, I am not a fan of people controlling others."

The older Jedi Master shrugged a silent agreement. He could have made any number of points about how the goal of a Jedi's Mind Trick was almost always ultimately towards peace, or that such a Force ability could never be used to make someone do something completely counter to their will, like making them stick a blaster in their mouth and pull the trigger. However, given Kyp's horrific past, such points were moot. Kyp Durron was usually light-hearted and considered one of the most casual Jedi Master, but that buoyant attitude hid a deep and nuanced understanding of morality. Watching one's own brother vaporized in the wave of an exploding sun tended to have that sort of impact.

Content that the matter was settled, Kyp changed the subject.

"I think we've ignored the subject long enough. Where is Jan? After Luke told me about your plan, I was expecting her to come at me with your Bryar pistol for volunteering to help."

Kyle sighed. This was the one distraction he was hoping wouldn't come up. There was no point in telling a lie three feet from a Jedi, so he didn't.

"After she finally gave up the fight to keep me in bed, Jan told me that she would stay at the Bespin base at man one of the comm stations. Right now, she's in the _Raven's Claw_'s cockpit, flying around with Rendar and the rest of the brigands."

Kyp chuckled and said, "I figured it was something like that."

There was an long period of silence in the cockpit before Kyp spoke again.

"If we keep looking for other things to discuss, we're going to end up talking about the weather on Alderaan."

The "weather on Alderaan" was slang for anything that was meaningless. Despite the fact that Alderaan had been destroyed four decades ago, only recently had the term found its way into the common vernacular. Many people avoided using the term so as to not accidentally insult any Alderaanian refugees, not knowing that it was the children of that disintegrated planet themselves who had coined it.

"So, the mission then?" Kyp asked.

"What else do you need to know? I thought we worked out the details back on Bespin."

The younger Jedi waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, I know. We're going to make sure Jacen can't slip out the back door. But those are just the plans. The last time I spoke to Jacen was quite some time ago, long before he started wearing so much black. I know that he..."

Kyp trailed off, clearing his throat before continuing. "I know what he did to Jaina and Zekk. I know what he did to Mara. But you took him on and got away."

"Just barely," Kyle admitted, his slowly-healing torso wound coming to the forefront of his awareness once more.

"Be that as it may, you know how he fights, how powerful he is now. No one is indestructible. Kun, Palpatine, the Vong, everyone can be beaten. If Luke and Rakehell can't finish the job, how do you think we go about taking him down?"

Kyle shook his head. "I don't know what to say. Caedus carries himself like an Emperor, but deep down he's still just a kid upset that everyone won't just shut up and do what he says. He sees the galaxy like a block of child's clay; that with enough force, he can make it any shape he wants." He turned back toward the window and watched the small, endless bursts of light from the battle. "He is very powerful. Good with a lightsaber, strong in the Force. Very... creative."

"Think we could take him?"

"In a straight-fight? Maybe, maybe not. When we fought on Coruscant, I got close several times, but he always had something up his sleeve. Now though, he'll have his favorite toy exploding around him, and the scumsucker is down to one hand, so anything is possible."

Kyp chuckled again, this time much louder. "I believe Master Luke would say "Anything is _always_ possible"."

"Yeah well," Kyle began, "Blowing up a Death Star and taking down an Empire can make you say some fairly stupid things."

The two Jedi laughed, and suddenly the cockpit was a little more open, the air a little less stale. For a brief moment, the Soaring Light wasn't their transport to what was very likely a suicide mission.

Another quiet fell over the two Jedi, and the brief camaraderie was gone. After a few minutes, Kyp leaned over the console's radar, pushed a few buttons, and began to ease the ship's throttle forward. They were coming up on the relative "rear" of the battle. Thin red brackets formed in front of the cockpit glass and surrounded a Star Destroyer that was several clicks further back than the other large Alliance ships.

Kyp said "Ah, the _Anakin Solo_, the pride of the Alliance and the flagship of Jacen Solo's righteous Fifth Fleet. Should we knock, or ring the bell?"

Master Katarn pressed a button below the target console and a wireframe readout of the Anakin Solo appeared.

"It doesn't look like we'll have to," Kyle said. "The shields and most of the guns are still down. Ben did the trick. The primary bay doors are still open and the hangar atmo barrier is still up."

"Got it."

The Soaring Light was quickly approaching the underside of the Alliance flagship from behind, and they had yet to be fired-on. The soft blue glow of the hangar bay's atmosphere barrier grew in their sight. Kyp shifted nearly a power to the YT-2000's shields and shifted control to thrust vectoring, allowing momentum to carry them forward. It was tempting to use to the comm or even the Force to figure out what kind of damage Rakehell Squadron was doing to the Anakin Solo, but either could easily be detected by Caedus.

In seconds, the two Jedi would pass through the barrier and be inside the infamous Star Destroyer.

Kyp turned to Kyle and said "For Jaina."

Kyle responded, "For all of them."


	25. Chapter 25

Part 25

"_Rakehell Leader, this is Rakehell Two. Stick with me, there is an opening for another pass."_

"Copy that, Two. Right behind you."

The two Incom XJ7 "X-Wing"-class starfighters dipped low as another series of intensely-bright turbolaser shots passed overhead. The blasts were not from other space fighters, but instead from one of the many banks of cannons on an Alliance Star Destroyer. Until a moment ago, Luke, Corran Horn, and the rest of Rakehell Squadron weren't sure if Darth Caedus was directing his forces to collapse on them . There was no question in their minds now.

The majority of the Jedi council were in flight suits, frantically hauling X-Wing control yokes with one hand and influencing the fight using the Force with the other. These influences ranged anywhere from a simple burst of mental confusion to completely redirecting an incoming concussion missile. This trump card was managing to keep most of Rakehell Squadron alive when it, in all probability, should have joined the rest of the floating field of scrap by this point.

It also drew enormous amounts of attention to them. A pair of proton torpedoes suddenly taking sharp turns directly into each other and exploding well short of their target was not a common sight. The other issue their powers presented was making them a gigantic glowing beacon to Darth Caedus. Luke was fairly certain that his nephew would have been able to feel them coming kilometers away anyway, Force-usage or not.

Corran and Luke's X-Wings came back up from below the _Anakin Solo's _horizon and nosed toward the capital ship's bridge tower just long enough each dump a pair of proton torpedoes before peeling starboard around the back of the tower. Thanks to Ben playing helter skelter with most of the Star Destroyer's systems from within, there were no shields to prevent to blue comets from exploding against and into the tower.

Brief moments of flame and ionization burst in the black of space, and were immediately replaced with gaps in the ship's plating. Just as Luke came around the other side of the tower, he was certain he spotted several flailing bodies tumble into space.

Cruel, horrifying deaths delivered to simple, well-meaning technicians by the Grand Master of the New Jedi Order. This was not the way it was meant to be. The thought was quickly chucked to the back of Skywalker's mind. There was no "way" that war was supposed to be, no grand unified treaty of honor and dignity on the battlefield. Not one that was recognized, anyway.

Luke simply wished this could be settled with a simple Lightsaber duel. Himself, maybe one or two others depending on who Caedus fielded. An unremarkable room, possibly a hangar or large office, with little clutter. Some words to clear the air, and then crossed blades. So many major problems in the galaxy had been settled in such a manner.

The aging hero had always wanted a chance to duel Caedus, an opportunity to bring Jacen back to the light or stop him before he could cause more destruction. That chance originally seemed possible during the chaos of the Battle of Kashyyyk, but when Leia and Han reported back that the Hapans wouldn't be supporting the Jedi Coalition, Luke was forced into a starfighter with the rest of the Jedi and the battle quickly turned to a slaughter. A Jedi was never meant to have regrets, but Luke had been finding that ability to shrug them away absolutely impossible after his wife's murder.

Following the killing of Mara Jade Skywalker at Caedus' hands, Luke insisted to the rest of the council that he was in no position to lead the Jedi. He offered his seat to several Jedi, including Kyle Katarn, Corran Horn, and Cilghal, but all of them declined. It was a kindness for them insist that Luke still had it in him to the be the tip of the Jedi blade, but it was without much merit.

"_Hell Leader, Rendar here. We're tryin' to get to you guys, but these bucketheads are swarming us. A few of us slipped through, but I'm a bit too busy trying to keep me and mine from getting fried to head your way. We'll keep thinin' them out, best that can be done at the moment."_

Luke sighed. He had felt Jacen's strange Force technique reaching out. He had practically seen the tendrils stretching from the _Anakin _to the various Alliance ships in combat, watched them dance in perfect formations. It was no surprise he had put a wall of fighters between himself and such an unpredictable element as the mercenaries.

"Carry on, Dash. We are still pecking away."

A pang of light filled the top right corner of Luke's vision, like a ray of sunlight momentarily piercing a cloud cover. He pushed the stick forward, forcing his X-Wing perilously close to the flagship's upper surface. A volley of green lasers soared meters from the top of his canopy. He pulled back up, and a seemingly suicidal A-Wing rocketed just underneath.

Corran shouted over the comm, _"Several more incoming!"_

"Backroll and hit the tower again," Luke said.

"_I see the fighters, Leader. Coming to intercept."_

The last voice was Tycho Celchu, a veteran pilot and ex-Leader of Rogue Squadron.

Corran and Luke's X-Wings banked sharply straight up away from the _Anakin_'s top bow and back toward its command tower. The two snubfighters began rotating along their path in case any of the topside laser batteries picked them up. They opened up with their quad laser cannons in unison, creating a segmented river of red energy. The shots all landed within a meter of each other, and Luke saw transparisteel burst into vacuum. They had apparently blasted open a rather large and important room in the tower.

Then, just as the two fighters were about to jib past the tower, Luke Skywalker saw him. In the back of the room in an open turbolift, he could clearly make out the image of Jacen Solo. The moment was no longer than a pair of seconds, but it immediately began to stretch into seeming minutes. Luke felt Jacen's awareness upon his mind and the X-Wing around him. As the turbolift's doors started to close, Jacen extended his remaining hand directly in Luke's direction. The field of freshly-shattered transparisteel between them immediately spread away, and Luke's X-Wing shuddered violently, the console within exploding in shrapnel and sparks.

With the Force granting Luke an extra few seconds of extended time, the Jedi Master looked directly into his nephew's eyes, searching for anything resembling hesitation or regret, but found nothing.

As Corran twisted his X-Wing past the front of the tower, he looked back to see Skywalker's X-Wing shake, panels and parts fly free, and its shields disappear in a violent burst of energy.

"_Luke!"_

The seemingly endless clusters of pipes and access hatches wound and wrapped back upon themselves in a chaotic pattern that displayed a ruthless intent of efficiency or obfuscation. The difference was moot to Tahiri, as the cramped upper engineering level bounced loudly around her, constantly threatening to send her soaring off of her footing and into a large pipe or bulkhead.

The level for the secondary generators that supplied back-up power to the command tower's shields, communications, navigation, non-basic flight controls, radar, and perimeter defenses was an intricate network of control surfaces and nearly-exposed cables and piping. The level's layout was small, consisting of just two short hallways with several rooms branching off from each.

The systems were incredibly complex, easily the highest-end software and hardware in the Fifth Fleet. Duplicates were backed-up by triplicates, in-turn supported by redundancy after redundancy. Simply shooting and slashing at random systems would only cause temporary inconvenience to any of the officers on the bridge. The strikes cutting through the miles of computer banks and cables, however, were anything but random. The level was being torn apart by Ben Skywalker, a young man who had spend more than enough time aboard the icon vessel to learn how to bleed it best.

His climb up one of the turbolift shafts had been testing, but not without benefit. Along the way up, Ben had used the Force to heal what could be healed of his wounds, and to numb the rest. A few specific movements were slower, and he was aware of them, but the pain was no longer there to distract him.

Upon reaching the level, he had used the last of his thermal detonators to destroy the secondary and tertiary systems controlling the power regulation for the tower's shields. After that, it was a surprisingly calm process of finding specific systems and using his blue, glowing override command on them.

Until Tahiri and the Galactic Alliance Guard had shown up, that is.

For a moment Ben had considered continuing his work to completely disable the _Anakin _while blocking what attacks he could and accepting those he couldn't, but he knew that wasn't in the best interest of the attack. Only during a brief pause as he took cover from the first volley of shots did Ben realize that he had put his own life so low on this priority list. It didn't phase him.

He took no joy in his actions, simply focusing on the task at hand like a beast of burden with blinders blocking the sides of its vision. Ben knew that if he allowed even the faintest hint of emotion to cloud his judgment, he would remember that the man he had just deflected a blaster bolt into the throat of was a man he used to make jokes with in between raids on Coruscant.

Rolling and leaping, deflecting and throwing Force-powered pushes and pulls at a speed he had never before attempted, Ben had managed to defeat the the Guardsmen Tahiri had brought with her. Unfortunately, in the process, Caedus' Sith apprentice had managed to graze Ben with her lightsaber several times. One of these wounds, a deep slash across the side of his left leg, still burned.

Tahiri was in a difficult predicament. She could camp in front of the room's only exit, a turbolift door, or she could continue to chase him around the cramped spaces in an attempt to stop him from destroying any more systems. She had chosen a balanced strategy of the two options, rushing after Ben whenever she felt him close to something important, then rushing back to the turbolift door. So far, her hybrid plan was working and Ben had yet to do any more significant damage to her makeshift home. She was unsure if it mattered, considering how many blows had already been dealt to the Star Destroyer's infrastructure.

The dynamic had just changed. Tahiri knew now that her master, Jacen, was on the way. Ben likely knew as well, hiding somewhere near-by and easily able to hear the small comm unit. Ben also knew that while he stood a slight chance against Tahiri if he could use the environment to his advantage, Jacen could put him down quickly no matter the circumstances.

His hand had been forced. Again, he didn't concern himself with his own life, hoping instead that his work had been enough to bring down the flagship and its commander.

"I'm sure you heard that, Ben," Tahiri said, her voice level but weary. "Jacen is coming our way. You may be able to run and hide from me for a little while longer, but with Jacen at my side, your mission is over."

Tahiri's words were merely tools. She had found that speaking to him was one of the best ways to pick him up in the Force, provided she used the right triggers. Through various taunts and declarations, Tahiri had concluded that Ben wasn't susceptible to dispair or even the concept of failure, but had a strong attachment to his dead mother and her memory.

Ben had attempted the same verbal warfare a few times as well, but to no avail. He appealed to her memory of Anakin, and what he would think of what she was doing now. This was a ridiculous strategy, as Tahiri was practically fueled by her firm belief that Anakin was watching her now. She knew he was proud of her, proud that she had found the strength to turn against her false family for the sake of galactic peace. Her cause was righteous.

Attempting to use the Force to bounce his voice and hide its source, Ben shouted back.

"Tahiri, you were one of the smartest Jedi I've ever known. Heck, one of the strongest people. You've seen so much, how can you not see that he's manipulating you? For the longest time, I was convinced that Jacen was my best friend. He was only using me, grooming me into just another Sith weapon, just like he did to you!"

These final words were too powerful for their own good. Ben had risked that last emotional outburst and broken his tenuous Force hiding. Without a sound, Tahiri broke into a sprint toward the corner that Ben was hiding around. She crossed the distance nearly instantaneously. The ominous crackle of two lightsabers bursting to life at the same time echoed in the small room.

Ben took the initiative and wheeled around the corner in a slash. Still moving at speed, Tahiri leapt, spinning, over the strike. She ended her flip against the far wall and kicked off it, bringing a fierce strike down at the young Skywalker. Ben rolled to his right and the crimson beam passed through several pipes. Gas and sparks burst into Tahiri's face. Ben stepped forward and took a quick slash at her shoulder. She blocked, but he stepped around and shoved her back with his shoulder. He immediately followed this with a rising slash that went well over an inch through her left hip.

Tahiri embraced the pain and channeled it into her hand, sending a powerful wave of Force at Ben. The invisible pressure lifted Ben up and his collision with the bank of screens behind him culminated in an explosion of glass and metal. He shook his head and brought his blade up just in time to block a downward strike. The blades locked inches from his face, and the scent of ionizing air filled his nostrils.

Ben pushed against the blade and looked into Tahiri's eyes. What little sympathy he could feel was being drowned by frustration and focus, that old hunter's focus that he had always been told she operated on. In combat, she was natural predator, fierce and unrelenting. Mixed with the Dark Side of the Force, this was the perfect recipe for a killer. He had to use it against her.

Somehow.

Ben used his legs to push back at Tahiri's blade, pressing harder and harder. Finally, when he felt that his muscles could take no more, he kicked off the control surface behind him and used the compressed energy in their blade lock to propel him between Tahiri's legs. He carried the momentum into a roll and came to his feet. With nothing against her blade, the Sith Apprentice stumbled forward as her blade went through more machinery.

The son of Skywalker took that moment to throw a blast of Force at her turned back, but with his aching muscles and screaming wounds, Tahiri easily knocked it out of the air with her hand as she spun around. He breast lifted and fell with heavy breaths, and for the first time, he saw a small glint in her eyes. A spark of amber in her irises.

She rushed at him again. This time, she began a series of strikes before the gap between them was even closed. Up to down, brought around to his left, a quick duck, bringing his saber back up to block the follow-up. The strike was light enough for him to deflect and counter-attack with a pair of swings, but Tahiri blocked them with ease.

Ben ducked and side-stepped the next two attacks and jumped nearly two meters back.

He shouted, "The Dark Side has you! Your judgment is gone, Tahiri. You're a slave to the hate!"

"Lies!" Tahiri returned as she leaped at the Jedi once more. She continued her seamless strikes at Ben, speaking over the loud crashing of 'sabers. "Nonsense and dogma prattled by old men afraid of losing their grip on the galaxy!"

She struck high, then bounced her blade off his and came around at his legs. He hopped over the swing and swung at her shoulder, and she blocked it. Stepping forward and exhaling loudly, she pushed Ben back. He caught his footing and caught the next few swings, using the momentum of the last one to carry her blade into the wall, then stepped forward and kicked her forward knee. There was an audible crack, but it didn't buckle.

Tahiri screamed.

She spun Ben's lightsaber around, parrying it to the side. Ben looked from his blue blade back to Tahiri just in time to be blinded with red energy. His face filled with furious pain that he didn't imagine possible.

Lightsaber in hand and operating off pure instinct, Ben dropped to all fours and broke off into a run, going around the corner at full speed. His mind was a blur, his survival instincts clashing with the pain in his face and the inputs flooding in from the Force. He took a quick breath and summoned every bit of the Force that he could. The pain in his face stopped intensifying, but it certainly didn't lessen. Ben sensed Tahiri coming around the corner behind him. He slashed at what he hoped were pressurized pipes around him and ran again, coming around the corner that their duel had begun at moments ago.

He heard escaping gasses and used that second to wipe at his eyes. Blinking hurriedly, his vision came back in patches. Some parts of his sight contained perfectly normal details, other sections were nothing but weak blobs of colors. Ben brought his hand into view and saw that it was covered in both the water from his eyes, but a good amount of blood.

It was time to run again. He ran around the corner and stopped in the middle of the hall, then cut through the one short hall that connected the two primary paths. Another breath brought with it more of the Force's gentle touch. The pain became centralized, and finally he could tell that she had cut deeply into or even through the right side of his face, just below his eye. He didn't dare touch it or poke at it with his tongue. Instead he spat, and the fluid was unmistakably red.

This was a fight he could not win. Regardless of Jacen's approach, this duel was over. He knew that the key to her mind, to the personality that was the Tahiri he'd come to respect, was Anakin. Not just Anakin's image, but the pure devotion to life that he carried with him. Life, at any cost.

If she could not be convinced with what a hypothetical Anakin would or would not do, Ben thought, then the only option left was to make her feel what Anakin felt: compassion.

She was coming around the corner again. He blinked some more, and his vision was almost returned. Trusting in the Force, he closed his eyes one last time and imagined his mother and father. He brought his lightsaber to bear and allowed the Force to embrace him. A shiver ran through his arms, down his legs and back up to his head. It was a wave-like sensation, and it brought with it a sense of calm. He wasn't sure why, but in his mind he recalled his father telling him of Obi-Wan Kenobi's noble death.

Tahiri came into view, her mouth closed, nostrils flared, the amber flakes in her eyes now more numerous. Without a word, she began to strike once more. Black and parry, spin. Deflect, too slow, block again. Ben made no attempt to strike back. He simply defended as best he could, feeling Tahiri's rage build.

He blocked a strike at his left waist and inhaled as she came around for another strike. He caught it, but finally allowed his muscles to submit to the fatigue, and his lightsaber went spinning over his shoulder and landed a meter behind him. Seeing her moment, Tahiri brought the bright red beam back for a final blow.

Ben opened his arms wide, looked directly into her malevolent eyes, and spoke in a shockingly calm tone.

"He wouldn't do it."

Howling in fury, Tahiri brought her Sith blade straight down upon the crook of his neck. Ben closed his eyes and prepared for the light. It didn't come.

Ben looked to see the glowing lightsaber hovering mere centimeters from his neck, followed it past its hilt, the hands holding it, arms, shoulders, and to Tahiri's face. Her jaw was shaking and she couldn't stop swallowing. Her eyelids were fluttering, water building at their edges. He looked directly at her. Into her. She was awash with emotion, a horrible torrent of feelings from incomprehensible fury to crushing sadness.

He wanted to tell her that it was okay. He wanted to say that everything was going to be alright, and that she had only been lost, was now found again. But he couldn't. Jacen would be here any second, and as soon as she saw his face, Ben knew that Tahiri would be instantly refocused. Without moving another muscle, he opened his hand and summoned his lightsaber back into his hand. In one swift motion he activated the blade, brought it up in a rising backhanded slash, felt certain resistance as he cut through, and finally stepped forward and shoved her away with both hands.

She fell to the floor and dropped her weapon, making a sound more of sadness than pain or anger. The slash had cut deep, and blood was quickly soaking into the gray edges of her bodysuit.

The urge to stop and summon everything he could to help her was strong. She was never evil, simply another tool. Tahiri had been played, just as Ben had, just as the galaxy had.

However, he was no Jedi Healer, and he could already feel the presence of his one-time master approaching. Ben allowed himself a few seconds to use the Force to numb he new wounds and shove energy into his muscles. He quickly cut a few more clusters of wiring that he thought might have been on his target list, but with his mind in its current state, he couldn't be sure.

With little time to spare, Ben hurried over to the turbolift door, used the Force to cast it open, and reveled in the brief gust of air. Looking down, he could see clearly the lift containing Jacen approaching quickly. The wounded Jedi spotted an access hatch across from him, behind which was a series of small crawl spaces and tight ladders that ran parallel to the entire length of the lift's tube for maintenance. A Force push and the access hatch was blasted back into its own tunnel.

Ben could hear the roar of the approaching lift. A quick shake of the head, a breath, and Ben dove across the gap toward the small opening. His arms were inside, but the rest of his body slammed into the wall below. Scrambling, kicking, he inched up toward the opening. He felt Jacen's presence, and knew that Jacen could feel his. With images of the hours of torture at his cousin's hands, he threw the last of his energy into one last kick and hauled himself into the crawl space.

Less than a second later, he felt the rush of air as the turbolift rose to block the hatch and come to a stop. Ben crawled forward and reached a tight ladder that seemed to extend downward into eternity. He stepped down the rungs just far enough to be confident that Jacen wouldn't attempt to crawl in and drag him out of the maintenance space. Ben wrapped his arms around one of the rungs, finally allowed his muscles to begin to recuperate, and began to cry.

Kyle Katarn deflected one final volley of blasts back into the chest of an Alliance soldier. A few meter away, Kyp cut through the last resisting soldier's arm and kicked him away. In the hangar below, it was pure chaos. Officer, crewmen, mechanics and soldiers alike were scrambling to various fighters and shuttles. After the two Jedi had dispatched of two squads of Alliance gunmen, almost everyone else in the vicinity figured that they had far better survival chances by simply continuing their evacuation plans.

The two nodded at each other and began jogging toward the hanger's east exit. Immediately recognizing their robes, the panicked crew parted and rushed around them. They pushed through more soldiers and reached a bank of lifts before stopping in unison.

Kyp turned to Kyle, the two wearing the same shocked expression. Kyp asked Kyle a question, but he already knew the answer.

"Can you feel Luke anymore?"

Kyle sighed. "No."


	26. Chapter 26

Part 26

Perceiving seconds as minutes, Luke Skywalker watched his X-Wing tear itself apart.

The first thing to go was sound. High pitches become low, low pitches become pure bass, and anything lower than that warps to a barely-audible vibration. The air rushing out of the disintegrating cockpit took the sound with it, dragged it behind as it rushed into vacuum. The next thing lost was power. Lights disappeared in quick succession, his screens became black slates. Sparks leapt into space as switches and buttons failed.

The cracks in the canopy and hull were large enough to allow the air to escape and growing quickly. Luke wasn't sure if R2-D2, his beloved astromech droid, was being torn apart or shut down as well. He hadn't heard any noises, none of the unique beeps and whistles signature to astromechs. So anything was possible.

He wanted to focus on survival. Luke attempted to force himself to think of something that would save his from his current speed and the vacuum of space, but all that came to mind was that face. It was the face of warped familiarity, like a house you once lived in but now full of unfamiliar furniture and people. He saw in the face some of his best friend, Han Solo, some of his sister, Leia Solo, and by that extension, himself. It was Jacen Solo's face, put through a horrible filter and left in the form of Darth Caedus.

As he felt his seat shake free of the X-Wing's frame, Luke was reminded that he was one of the last few who saw Jacen Solo and Darth Caedus as two different entities. He had felt similar conflict in many Dark-side Force users, most memorably in his own father. Jacen's mind and Force-awareness felt slightly different than most of those, as it seemed he had more control on the pull of madness and thoughtlessness.

Jacen had done terrible things as a Sith Lord, but they had always been tactically-sound. It was unlike Palpatine's mind, which had become so clouded by greed and arrogance that he was killed by a crippled, middle-aged man and his farm-boy son hardly learned at all in the ways of the Force.

Luke finally returned his attention to his sudden lack of atmosphere. Panels of the cockpit began to shake away, the walls tearing away into space in chunks. He was still hurdling at several hundred kilometers-an-hour, but now it was just him and his seat headed straight for the durasteel bridge tower of a Star Destroyer.

Luke took one last long breath, removing the last of the oxygen from the air around him. The chair had small thrusters as part of the ejection system, but he was closing with the tower far too quickly to take advantage of them. The Jedi reached down and released his harness, elbowing the loose seat away. The vacuum of space wasn't going to be much of a threat, since he was going to collide with the craft in just seconds, not nearly enough time for the lack of atmosphere to do anything significant to the human body.

It wasn't a comforting thought.

The Jedi Grand Master expanded his arms and legs, reaching out into the living Force, urgently requesting its aid. The Force is everywhere, even where there is nothing, even in the black of space, Luke reminded himself repeatedly, like a mantra. He could feel soft energy building around him, the Force forming an invisible bubble around him. Luke could also feel himself slowing, but it wasn't nearly enough. He needed a second or two more, and a safer place to land should he even survive.

Then he saw where he was headed. The observation room he had seen Jacen in that brief second was directly ahead of him, and the transparisteel had been blown away. Using the Force to nudge his trajectory, Luke was now headed straight for the center of the room's window and continuing to slow. There was a slight vibration in the frames of the opening Luke was aiming for.

Metal panels began reaching in from either side of the window. Apparently not all of the back-up systems were down, such as this room's emergency seal system. Three seconds and Luke would be in the room or crushed against the collapsing panels.

No, he realized, the doors were going to seal first.

Skywalker reached out to the doors in the Force, and he could feel every little mechanical piece moving as intended. Even for a Force-user as powerful and experienced as Luke, he was drawing heavily on the life-giving energy and he could feel his mind reaching its limits. He grasped on every part his mind's eye could see, slowing it. The doors strained, now slower but still closing. One second.

Luke closed his eyes and tucked himself into a ball position. The second passed, and he was still on the mortal plane, still moving very fast. Exhaling in a burst, Luke opened himself up and allowed the built-up Force energy to explode around him. Enormous visible ripples shot through the air, bounced against the walls, then against each other, and against Luke. It hit him solidly, but helped to slow him down a bit more. Luke twisted sideways and hit the room's back wall with a powerful sound.

The Jedi Master limply fell to the floor. His consciousness was threatening to leave him. Vertigo rocked him, the floor seemingly in five different places. Attempting to move, Luke found that his right shoulder hardly shifted, and that his arm was completely numb. This was all irrelevant, because he was still breathing.

Luke's X-Wing had been shredded around him and he had soared through empty space at starfighter speeds into a three-meter-tall opening and almost completely mitigated the impact. He coughed through a smile, imaging himself as a proton torpedo soaring into a small exhaust port.

Luke felt he had earned a break, and allowed himself a good thirty seconds before his next attempt to get up. He reached out to the Force weakly, attempting to simply find the presences of familiar people. He immediately recognized a soft blue glow several floors above. He knew its form because sensing it in the Force felt like looking in the mirror. It was his son, Ben, still very much alive but in duress. He could feel his son's physical wounds, as well as a deep sadness.

The target of Ben's despair was plain: a few meters from his location, Luke clearly felt the waves in the Force signaling a dying Jedi. Had Kyle or Kyp already fallen? No, he could feel them now as well, many decks below. They seemed fine, and Luke could faintly hear their heavy breathing as they ran. Luke briefly considered that his son had somehow defeated Jacen, but his instincts told him this wasn't the case.

Ben. Brave Ben. Luke closed his eyes again, forming a perfect image in his mind of his red-headed son. Just like Jacen, Jaina and Anakin, Ben had been born almost immediately into war and violence. Also like the Solo children, he knew that he carried with him an enormous genetic responsibility, despite constant reassurances from Luke and Mara that Ben could be anything he chose to be.

Still only fifteen years old, not even old enough to legally operate his own ship, Ben had already taken many lives. The young Jedi had followed his childhood hero into the military, served under his leadership hoping to do good works, only to find himself hauling men and women out of their homes in the middle of the night. He had been alive to see the greatest threat in the galaxy's history tear through planet-after-planet, savage warriors killing his friends and family.

Now, his son was voluntarily throwing himself in front of a vastly-stronger enemy, working his way through a ship he is attempting to destroy around himself. Luke reached out to Ben in the Force, but he was too weak to make his presence noticeable by his son. Instead he attempted to listen, see, and feel what his son could.

The image was horribly vague and there was little noise aside from Ben's labored breathing. However, there was great pain. Luke tried to count the various possible wounds, but they faded in and out. Ben was apparently using the Force to numb the pain of broken bones. Brave young Ben. Luke swallowed hard, finally bringing his breathing up to a healthy rate. He felt several tears that had already ran down his face, now about to make the jump to the floor.

Time was up. With audible pain, Luke rolled onto his stomach and lifted himself to a kneel with the arm that he could still feel. Now that he was sitting up, Luke could see why the feeling was gone from his right arm. It was because his right hand and wrist were gone from his right arm. His forearm ended in torn artificial flesh and several pistons and metal rods covered in countless wires. He strained to look back toward the wall and saw that his prosthetic right hand had exploded against the wall. A scattering of fingers, actuators, and chunks of skin-colored foam spanned two meters.

As he gingerly moved the natural elbow above the torn prosthetic, Luke felt several sharp pains in his right shoulder. It was likely broken. Still, Skywalker admitted to himself as he gently rose to his feet, it could be much worse. The pile of artificial bits spread out on the floor could be much larger, and much less artificial.

Shaking his head, Luke's vision began to clear. He saw that the room's emergency doors had sealed properly and assumed, since he wasn't gasping on the floor, that the atmosphere in the room had been restored. Luke lifted his flight helmet off and tossed it away. He did the same with the harness and survival systems on his chest, leaving him in his orange flight suit, a belt with nothing but his lightsaber, and his boots.

Luke spotted the near-by turbolift door behind which his nephew had disappeared. With each step he took towards it, his sight got better. He reached for the panel where a ship-linked comm unit would usually be, but found that the actual comm device was missing. It also seemed to be installed farther into the wall than usual. Luke knew that the turbolift was gone, and guessed that Jacen had taken it up to chase after Ben. He had to guess, since he hadn't been able to feel Jacen in the Force for over a year.

Luke noted that it was strange for there to only be one turbolift door in the room, since he knew that a minimum of two lifts ran the length of the tower, more as you approached the command bridge. This room was clearly meant for something relating to Jacen, and Jacen alone. Reaching out to the Force once more, Luke felt shadows around him, powerful imprints in the Force. If Luke's guess was right, then Jacen had learned the ancient technique of Battle Meditation. Likely one more souvenir from Jacen's five-year trip along the galaxy's less-beaten paths.

He could also feel where two Jedi had died. One near the wall, barely a meter from where Luke had collided, and the other closer to the center of the room. That second echo in the Force held a similar familiarity to it, and he knew he was looking at the spot where Jaina Solo had been killed. His mind instantly recalled the ceremony where he had promoted her to the rank of Jedi Knight and given her the title "Sword of the Jedi." He wondered if it had gone to her head, that if the need to live up to her title had helped her decide to sneak here on a suicide mission.

Luke's depression grew even deeper, and now he felt something he had not felt for some time. It was a sensation he had managed to bury beneath decades of training and mental strength. It was the first red tendrils of anger. It was minor, but he could feel himself wanting to give in to the fury. He also knew that he couldn't continue to stand there by himself while the war raged on.

With a renewed strength, Luke again reached out to his son through the Force. This time there was a solid connection, and he could feel his son's elation. For a moment, they shared a reassuring connection, a single emotion stretched several stories high. After the invisible embrace ended, Luke gave Ben a sense of where he was in the ship.

Sentences and conversations were difficult to send through the Force directly, even between two powerful, related Jedi. Communication was done with sensations of direction and distance, emotions and brief images, occasionally a single word like a name. Ben suggested that his Father stay put, and informed him that he was directly above and would be coming down to meet him. Luke sent him an image of a faceless Jedi clearly dead and a feeling of curiosity. It was his way of asking Ben for the identity of the dying Jedi above.

Ben grew sad again, and a single word rang out in his mind: "Tahiri".


	27. Chapter 27

Part 27

The curving doors of the turbolift parted, and Darth Caedus looked upon the ruins of the secondary shield regulator room. Pipes jutted into walkways, some of them still spouting various gasses. They seemed to protest against their positions in life. Most of the venting conduits had clearly been the victims of lightsaber blades, but a few appeared to have been involved in violent collisions with flying objects. Between each cluster of fussing pipes was a bank of small screens and a control panel. Several of these work stations had also been decimated, shards for the screens glinting in the room's weak artificial light.

The Dark Lord was well-aware that Ben Skywalker was mere meters behind him, slowly making his injured way down a turbolift maintenance shaft. With enough focused effort, Caedus could send the turbolift shooting down and begin ripping the walls of the shaft out panel-by-panel, eventually reaching the young saboteur.

The time that would take, however, made it highly impractical. The damage was done, and it was unlikely that the boy would be making any more stops to further wreck his flagship. He knew that Ben knew this, too. As his previous mentor and Master, Caedus tried to pretend that he was proud of Ben's dastardly accomplishments. The pride was entirely false and impossible to maintain, replaced by wholly-natural animosity.

His anger helped him focus on the fading life force further into the room. Caedus stepped further down one of the halls and stared down at floor, his feelings entirely correct. Before him laid the steaming, bloody body of Tahiri Veila. Her black jumpsuit was thick and heavy around an arm-length slice that ran straight up from her stomach and along her sternum. Ben's lightsaber had charred most of the visible surface of the wound, making it unclear exactly how much bone and tissue had been turned to ozone. His eyes traced up the wound to a thin, convulsing neck.

Her face was the very image of furious beauty tossed through a pane-glass window of violence. Her eyes were slits of amber and red. Blood gathered at the edge of her lips, cascading lightly past them to paint her cheeks and chin in crimson. Her mouth twitched, and he could hear Tahiri's wet struggling breaths. Caedus leaned down next to her, his rage quickly building to a point it had not reached in years.

"Jacen," Tahiri said. Her voice was still strong, but the air the words traveled on was humid with the blood of slowly-flooding lungs.

The Dark Lord of the Sith didn't know what to say. He always knew what to say, his words had become one of his powerful tools. How was he unintentionally silent now? This was not supposed to be difficult, he thought. A valuable asset was mortally wounded. He could either let the wounds run their course, or make an attempt to restore the weapon to a useful state. The weapon. The woman. Tahiri.

"Jacen," she said again, her eyes still aimed directly for the ceiling.

"Stop talking," he commanded. Caedus wasn't sure how long he could maintain an authoritative tone.

Tahiri moaned as she lifted her left hand from the deck and weakly wrapped it around Jacen's right. This was not the time, the Sith thought. There was a war going on, quite literally, around them. The ship was on the brink of a full system failure, and explosions were painting its length.

"You have..." Tahiri's words retained their strong tone, but the energy required to produce them was obviously taxing. "You have to listen."

"No!" Caedus shouted, gripping her hand tightly and leaning closer. "You will listen to me! You are a powerful Sith warrior, an elite soldier capable of incredible influence and destruction. Tahiri Veila, you will save your strength and focus on keeping air in your lungs. My most powerful weapon is not going to die in a maintenance back-room, felled by some youngling."

Tahiri let out a sound, and a small burst of blood along with it. At first Caedus thought it to be a cough, but as he saw the weak smile forming on her face, he realized it was a laugh.

"A weapon?" She asked. "I thought... I had hoped I was more than that." Another sickly laugh. "Apparently I wasn't."

Jacen didn't know how to respond. The fury within was mixing with something else, a feeling entirely counter-productive to his cause.

"You," he began, but he was slow to finish the sentence. "You are many things. One of those things is a survivor. Now concentrate on the Force, find your anger and sorrow, and grasp it tightly. It will carry you through this."

Her smile grew slightly wider, and Jacen finally noticed the streaks of fresh tears running from the corners of her fluttering eyes.

"Th-there's a problem, Jacen," she said, managing to push a tone of dry humor through the pain. "I'm not angry."

He could feel her emotions in the Force without even trying. Her mind was an open book, and every page was lined with luminescence. Jacen felt her attempting to pull his hand closer, and he allowed himself to be drawn towards the face of the dying woman. For a moment, neither said a word.

As she began to speak again, Jacen could feel his remaining hand begin to shake around her's.

"We were wrong, Jacen." She turned towards him, her eyes meeting his. "We were wrong."

Jacen protested with a weak "No," but it was not the command of a leader, merely the saddened remark of another man.

"I know," Tahiri said, coughing. "I know what you did... putting Anakin in my head that night."

The mere man in black above here swallowed deeply, shaking his head meekly. It wasn't in disagreement, but out of disbelief at the scene before him, and his own lack of control. He felt the Force swell within Tahiri, giving her the strength to grasp Jacen's hand tighter and continue to speak.

"I think I always knew what you did, but I wanted to believe. I wanted to believe it was what he wanted, and..." She trailed off, and new tears left her amber-sprinkled eyes. "I wanted to believe in you, Jacen."

He felt his stomach fall freely from his body, rage giving way to pain and regret. He sneered, fighting back the moisture welling within his own eyes. He needed to lie, to command, to take control of the situation.

He couldn't.

He spoke, gasping through his teeth, "I thought I was doing the best thing for the galaxy."

"I know," Tahiri said, still smiling at him. "I thought so too. But you were wrong. It's okay, I was too."

Jacen shook, electricity running straight up into his neck. He couldn't handle it. He had trained for everything except that which could not be anticipated. Jacen had never anticipated holding the hand of a dying subordinate, his apprentice, and feeling his carefully-crafted composure escaping him. He blinked, and the tears felt like smoldering cinders on his face.

He knew exactly why this was completely removing his defenses, breaking down every wall he had constructed against dangerous and unpredictable emotions. This was his own doing. He had taken Tahiri, reached out to her in a moment of weakness, and shaped her into exactly what she had said: a mere weapon. She was splayed across this cold floor, the life rushing from her body, because of him. Jaina had chosen her path. She had fought him of her own free-will, knowing that she was going to die at his hands.

Tahiri, though. He had taken Tahiri, a strong, complex woman, and whittled her down to simple blade's edge. Jacen had crudely hammered a weapon out of beauty, wrapped it in a simple-minded scabbard and tainted it with senselessly-shed blood. The weapon could take no more.

Jacen remained wordless, simply pulling her hand against his chest. He felt their intertwined fingers stop against his chest armor. Jacen wanted to bring her hand closer, to feel his furiously-beating heart.

"I've seen so much," Tahiri said, the strength finally beginning to fade from her voice. Jacen watched in silent horror as glowing tendrils formed at the edges of her face, her shoulders, her entire body. The amorphous shapes of glowing Force danced lightly in unseen winds before releasing into the air and fading from sight. Her voice continued to shrink. "I've seen the light, and I've seen the dark." She swallowed and coughed, her final words barely above a whisper. "I guess there's only one thing left to see."

Jacen practically crushed her hand against his chest plate as he felt the last of her presence in the Force float away like flower petals in a soft wind. Still shaking, he leaned forward, resting his face against her's.

"No," he whispered. "No." He continued to repeat it, his voice cracking throughout as he rocked on his knees. Jacen sat up, his shoulders and GAG armor piece now spotted with Tahiri's blood. The despair was giving way to rage once more, and Jacen torqued his jaw. Still on his knees, he screamed at her.

"You can't just leave me like this! You can't tell me that everything we did was wrong and then _just fucking leave me!_"

Jacen slammed his fist on the floor. The metal gave under the pressure and buckled, a crater around his closed hand. The fist sparked, lit up, and the concave metal panel filled with leaping electricity. He threw his head back and inhaled deeply, his shoulders back, eyes closed, his jaw popping loudly.

Caedus stood and opened his eyes, now almost entirely spheres of cracked amber. The anger flowed through his veins, the fire it brought with it was powerful and fulfilling. He felt as though his entire body was engulfed in the deep red flames. Tahiri's lightsaber lifted from the floor and floated gently into the Sith Lord's open hand.

He could feel them now. He could feel everything. Every furious pilot, every frantic crewman, and each of the four Jedi aboard the _Anakin Solo_: Ben, Luke, Kyp... and Kyle Katarn. He could feel their presence below.

Caedus turned to look back down at Tahiri's body.

"No. I was not wrong. I will show you that I am not wrong."

Darth Caedus walked back to the room's turbolift. The doors parted once more. His chest heaving, Caedus reached toward the open lift. Jerking his arms violently forward, the turbolift suddenly expanded outward, then exploded into panels and electronics. He took one step forward, and fell freely down the empty shaft.


	28. Chapter 28

Part 28

Caedus watched. Large spherical blossoms of bursting colors, blue. Lightning following. The explosion expanded briefly, fire weaving through the ionized energy. Panels dropped, fell to hit the panels of the ship around it.

A chair near the front, red and simple in design, burst from a craft's cockpit and soared past, a yard between them. It was a familiar chair. He had spent nearly 5 years in that seat. Sleeping, meditating, even testing new abilities in the space around him. Equally-familiar panels tore from one another, were eaten by the fire or crisped by the fluctuating energy.

He felt the vibrations of the small ship's eruption through the deck of the hangar. Like ripples in the Force cascading from a death. Darth Caedus slowly rose from his feet. He had been holding his breath. Why, he asked. He felt no fear. He was fury, a pillar of solidarity wrapped in flame. Why, he asked, was he reacting at all to the loss of his primary form of egress. He was here to kill two men, not to leave the quickly-dying vessel named for his lost brother.

It was nagging him. With time slowed as it seemed to be, he had time to note this. An errant thought logged like a shift clock. He turned back to the aforementioned men. Jedi. Knights of Order, old friends. Kyp Durron. Kyp. Kyle. Luke. Han.

Fond memories, rose, ebbed, threatened to bubble and burst on the surface. They were hushed. They were easy to hush. Breathing deep, he walked slowly, calmly. Caedus closed his eyes, continued forward.

Anger, in it's rawest form, rushed through his lungs. It was thicker than air. More satisfying. Caedus felt his muscles tense, ease, and repeat once more. He rolled his head around his neck several times, remembering the lessons of the pain incurred at the hands of the Vong. It was fulfilling, like a good ale out of reach for years.

It had not driven him mad. At least, he didn't believe it had. Questioning whether he was mad was enough to convince Caedus that he was not. With his sanity apparently in check, it was simple enough to embrace the Force. Summoning it unto himself in zephyrs, the air shook around him in the tide.

Pilots stumbled back from their rush to-and-fro. Most brushed it off as just another level of the madness coalescing around them, but some were awestruck. They did not rise. Caedus noticed them in the Force as his awareness expanded outward. There they were: Jedi. He had touched upon the surfaces of the Jedi Masters Katarn and Durron.

They were clearly aware of his attempted probe, and they had come prepared to defended their consciousnesses. Perhaps he would have easier access during the fight, but it occurred to him that such measures may not even be required. Voices. Soft voices, rippling. Possibly shouts hushed by rushing winds. It was the Jedi. They were attempting to tell Caedus something.

No, Caedus thought, they were attempting to tell Jacen something. The Jedi remained ignorant. To them, Jacen and Caedus were still somehow separate entities. Two people within a single mind, as Tahiri had once been. Darth Caedus was not, nor had he ever been, more than one person. He was simply himself on another stone on the path. They couldn't see the stone, the path, or even the forest.

That were blind, and they would lose.

Caedus was fully aware that this would be his defining moment. In the past, he had wondered if people were often aware of the importance of great moments as they were happening. He now knew.

They continued to shout, and he received their surface emotions: anger, fear, sadness. All the same emotions that supposedly led to his dastardly ways. The righteous Jedi Order, Caedus thought. His smirk transformed into a twitch of the mouth, then his right eye, then ceased.

Caedus became aware of his Lightsaber's hum within his grasp. He had activated it without thought. A lot of his upcoming actions would likely be similar. The bustle of pilots and crew thinned and Caedus finally opened his eyes, looking toward the two Jedi. They were older, though Kyle was the only one who let it show. Kyp appeared the same age, if not younger than the Sith Master. Kyle Katarn seemed to wear every act he had committed on his shoulders, and that he had been carrying them for some time.

They were not righteous men. They still saw the universe in the form of proverbs and smoke. Caedus took a heavier step, and the durasteel gave way beneath his tread. The absolute and unwavering truth the Sith Lord held within him sped the Force further and tighter around him.

Kyle looked as though ready to strike upon a nexu with his bare hands. Master Durron motioned for him to hold, and shouted something more. It was likely a final plea for what they perceived as reason. The words remained meaningless to the Sith Lord's focused mind. Caedus casually looked away from the Jedi and at a small cargo lifter. The single-seat vehicle left the ground with impressive speed and soared at the tan-robed men.

Caedus was still aware of the two Skywalkers many decks above, and of the countless fighters outside. He could see the path to his survival, but it required precise turns at precise paces. Kyp leapt directly up and the lifter tumbled loudly beneath him. Before his feet returned to metal, a focused wave crashed into him. He took the brunt of the blast against his crossed arms, but the momentum sent him into a far bulkhead.

Kyle had simply rolled backwards. His sky blue blade was already ignited and the aging Jedi Master began sprinting toward Caedus. Caedus felt the anger radiating off Katarn like a star. Kyle was throwing away all pretenses that he was still operating as a Jedi. No, the Sith Lord realized with a smile, Kyle was finally being honest: He was here with intent to kill.

Caedus looked down. A bead of sweat fell from his brow. It seemed to fall impossibly slowly. He looked back up, and his path shone brightly, a gracefully winding road of pure red light. Kyle brought his lightsaber down toward Caedus' neck. Caedus ducked beneath the swing, knocked Kyle's arm aside, and brought a right knee into the old Mercenary's midsection. Caedus took the brief moment to inhale deep, sucking in the thick air, and Kyle slammed his forehead into Caedus' own.

Kyle swung heavily back across Caedus' waist, but he leapt back. The Sith lightsaber hilt cut through the air and nestled into his grasp. The red blade was already in motion as it came to life. A series of quick strikes around Kyle's torso pushed him back. The Mercenary was full of hate, but having spent half of his lifetime as a Jedi, it was not honed.

Kyle returned strikes, heavier as before, but Caedus blocked each without extraneous effort. Kyle forced his way forward with each strike. The next swing was stronger than the last. Katarn closed the distance to nearly nothing with a quick strike at Caedus' chest. The Sith Lord looked into Kyle's eyes, searching for the perfect opening, and Master Katarn slammed his boot into the Sith's leg. Caedus growled as bone cracked, but did not give.

The surprise turned to anger, to hate, and then into lightning that erupted from the abrupt ending of Caedus' left arm. Kyle screamed as the energy crawled over and through him. The timeless Jedi robes began to darken and fray. Katarn finally shook himself with enough effort to roll backwards, free of the cracking tendrils. He shook his head, returned to his feet, and assaulted Caedus once more.

The younger man had to admit that with such skill and seemingly endless rage, Katarn might have been an even more powerful Sith than himself, given the right training.

Caedus foresaw a particular strike, and parried Kyle's blade nearly out of his hand. The Sith Lord slashed clean down before Kyle leapt back. A thin trail of ionizing blood turned to vapor. Kyle looked at the gaping crevice of black fringes within his right shoulder apathetically. It didn't seem to slow his defense of Caedus' proceeding assault.

Darth Caedus' strikes were wide and varied, attempting to throw the furious Jedi off-balance. Kyle retreated one slow step at a time, keeping pace with the oncoming crimson blade, but just barely.

Kyle caught one last upward swing and used a combination of momentum to jump backwards once more. His breaths were deep and dry. He looked to his right and saw Kyp finally rolling from under another fighter that had entangled with the cargo vehicle. The younger Jedi stood and shrugged away the frustration. Kyp saw Kyle's wounds, but noted that he didn't seemed phased by it.

Master Katarn turned back to Lord Caedus, spat, and shouted. His words rang well through the frantic hangar.

"So this is what you wanted, brat? Do you think that you're anything special? Caedus, you're just another turn on the same damn wheel! Vader before you, Palpatine before him, and countless others just a while before that. It's a sick pattern, just playing out."

Kyp began approaching Caedus and joined in. "Master Katarn is more or less correct. We were supposed to offer you a doorway, a sort-of get-out-of-holding-free option to turn around from your dark path." He ignited his blue 'saber. "However, I don't think that's what Jaina would have wanted."

Kyp leapt toward Caedus, arm extended. Caedus casually threw a wave at the oncoming Jedi, but it was cast aside. Master Durron spun through the air, casting the outer coat of his Jedi robes toward Caedus. Caedus swung through the oncoming mass of fabric out of reflex, cleaving it to several pieces. In the same moment, Kyp continued to spin around the strikes and brought the back of his heel up and into Caedus' left shoulder. Another crack vibrating through flesh.

The Sith Lord immediately began of flurry of attacks at the quick Jedi. Kyp deflected some, but chose to step back and dance away from the majority. Kyle chose that moment to rush back into the fray. As he picked up pace toward the Sith, Kyle hurled his lightsaber forward. It spun, cutting through the air as though a disc of flashing blue.

Caedus took one last strike at Kyp before spinning back around and directing the spinning blade away with his left wrist. The lightsaber hissed as it bounced against a wall blade-first before soaring straight back into Kyle's waiting hand. His weapon returned to him just as he closed distance with Caedus. Kyle swung upward, than down, around left, left again, and once more. Katarn swung with little grace, more resembling a man swinging a mining tool with fervor. With two hands, Darth Caedus would easily block and parry every swing. As it was, he was beginning to feel the first notes of strain in his right wrist.

Caedus could still see the path to survival, but the wind was eroding it quickly.

Darth Caedus planted his feet and blocked two more swings before focusing on the bulkhead panel beneath Kyle's feet. The metal floor immediately gave way, warped, and shot upward. Master Katarn flipped backward off of the misshapen panel. Caedus brought his lightsaber low and began to rush toward Kyle, appearing to prepare a killing blow to the falling Jedi. Kyp saw his opening and charged the Sith Lord.

Darth Caedus planted his right boot deep into the durasteel. He urned immediately, focused the Force into a downward stroke that slammed Master Durron's lightsaber out of his grasp, then swung through Kyp's chest.

Small strands of robe frayed away, chasing escaping drops of blood. Kyp fell to his knees in the same moment that his lightsaber's kill switch cut the weapon off. He sighed and looked up at the Sith.

"Close your eyes and die, Jedi. Your time has passed and you know it. Do what your kind does and embrace the Force."

"You're too much-" Kyp began, coughing. "-too much of an asshole for the Force to not find a way to stop you." The dying man directed his arm toward Caedus, and the fallen lightsaber activated and rose toward Caedus. He rushed to block the lightsaber, and a spear of pain erupted through his right leg. The floating weapon fell once more as Caedus rolled away, causing the pain to spiderweb through his leg.

The Sith Lord turned and immediately knew that Katarn had put a lightsaber straight through the back of his right calf. Caedus allowed the question to run through his mind: how could he be having so much trouble with two lowly Jedi? It infuriated him, the anger renewing and furthering his connection with the Force. It wrapped around his leg and moved it as he willed. If his muscles would not propel his body, then he would make sure that the Force did.

Such control was terribly draining, and Caedus' eyes were quickly shifting from a sickly light yellow to progressively deeper shades of pink, thin hairs of red veins expanding to crimson rivers.

Darth Caedus reached toward the nearest fighter, the newest model of the long-standing X-Wing series. A quick lift and pull, the craft was being propelled toward Master Katarn very much not under its own power. Kyle jumped over the deafening clamor of skidding craft, and streaks of white lighting appeared just behind him. The lighting coursed over the surface before reaching the compressed Tibana gas and turning the X-Wing into a fireball. Kyle felt the back of his robes nearly turn to cinder as he rolled to a stop.

Katarn rose and slowly approached Caedus. Caedus expected more banter or dark witticisms, but none came. Instead, with calm focus, Kyle stepped forward and began a series of far more controlled swings. Perhaps Kyp's final moments had given the Mercenary a moment of clarity, or this was simply another stage of his anger. Kyle maintained the force in his attacks from before, but they were much quicker now. Sets of four strikes on alternating quadrants of his body, to harder crashing swings, back to sets, then a stab bought back around into another heavy strike.

The pain was beginning to build, and Caedus could no longer use the Force to numb himself as he needed to keep his legs working in tandem. Attempting to push the tide of the duel back, Caedus stepped aside and lunged hard with a stab. Kyle easily stepped aside from the attack, but Caedus slammed the remains of his left arm against Kyle's chest and began converting the Force rushing around him into powerful electricity.

The hot lightning's focal point was Caedus' severed wrist. He screamed as Kyle's body shook. The energy continued to dance across the hair, fabric, and flesh of the two men. The crackling finally stopped only when Caedus no longer had enough control to steady his wounded leg. The Sith dropped to a knee.

Jedi Master Kyle Katarn fell to the floor. He had come to rest on his side, Kyle's eyes still staring at the winded Sith. Caedus could feel the rage still combusting from within Katarn. Kyle opened his mouth and coughed weakly, thin smoke and thick blood. Caedus couldn't smile, nor scowl, nor really react in any way. He could simply breathe. The Sith's heart continued to race, knowing that a pause such as this was wasting precious seconds.

"You can kill me." Kyle said. "You can kill Luke. You can kill young Ben. Kill everyone in your way." He coughed again, this time less smoke, more blood. "You will on your little throne for a while. Then one day, you will be killed by someone you least expected. You're be remembered, if ever, as just another child who didn't know what to do with the galaxy when he finally got it."

"Even if your tale holds true," Caedus said, "You will still be dead, and the Jedi and Sith will return to killing one-another. Your balance is just another form of chaos that would be better-off controlled, and you Jedi know nothing of control."

"Always an answer, always a way out," Kyle said. His robes were being dyed quickly.

A tinny voice came from the comm unit within Caedus' robes. With little energy left between them, the two wounded Force-users listened.

"_Attention all channels: A Hapan Battle Dragon has entered the edge of engagement range. Strike that- four, six, more Battle Dragons are jumping in."_

Caedus smirked down at Kyle. "I try."

"_The Hapans have opened fire on Alliance cruisers! Their primary target looks to be the _Anakin Solo_. Issuing fall-back orders to the Fifth Fleet."_

Caedus' smirk slowly fell. Kyle didn't have the energy to grin, or laugh, or spit in the Sith's face. Considering how well Jaina and Tenel-Ka had known each other as children, he was surprised the Hapans had taken this long.


	29. Chapter 29

Part 29

"_The Hapans have opened fire on Alliance cruisers! Their primary target looks to be the _Anakin Solo_. Issuing fall-back orders to the Fifth Fleet."_

A full fleet of Hapan Battle Dragons had just warped into space relatively above the conflict and immediately opened fire on all Alliance craft. From their speed and formation, it was clear to all observers that the Dragons were soaring straight for the _Anakin Solo_. With this action, the Hapans had declared war on the entirety of the Galactic Alliance. Sixty three planets and tens of billions of women and men had just returned the Jedi-led resistance to a force more than capable of a full-scale Civil War. The involvement of the Hapans had potentially just extended the Second Galactic Civil War by several years.

Every single one of these vital facts faded to so much noise around the Sith Lord's crashing mind. Caedus' list of mental priorities began with his daughter Allana, immediately followed by his beloved Tenel Ka, and was two columns deep. At the age of five, Allana certainly could not be held responsible for this. That meant that exactly half of everything he cared about in this galaxy of empty space no longer wanted him alive.

Darth Caedus was still weakened by the battle with Jedi Masters Durron and Katarn. Kyp Durron's body laid motionless a couple of meters away. Kyp's spirit was likely on the way to the Valley of the Jedi.

Then the thought struck the winded Sith with gusto: The Valley.

The Valley of the Jedi was an enormous focal point of the Force's power. From what little he had gleaned, the Valley was originally the spot of a great battle between Jedi and Sith thousands of years ago. The spot was now rife in the Force, and the live-giving energy flowed through it like an infinite river cycling collecting at a small drain before flowing forth once more. After fighting several Dark Jedi to prevent the massive power source falling into other hands, Kyle and his now-wife Jan Ors spent several years backtracking and erasing all remaining clues and hints left of the Valley's location. Not even Grand Master Skywalker himself knew where the powerful nexus lay. Like the Head Jedi Archivists of old, Kyle had taken it upon himself to be the only Jedi in the galaxy that could still tell you where to drink directly from the well of life itself.

Darth Caedus had written off ever attaining the Valley as a project to be undertaken years after his reign was secure. However, here lay before him the Valley's lone ferryman. It was, perhaps, a subconscious effort to not immediately have to deal with Tenel Ka's betrayal.

Kyle would not be a difficult hull to breach. The old Mercenary was laying on the torn durasteel of the hangar floor, every one of the ship's vibrations rippling through the bloodied mess of flesh and wool robes. He was certainly still alive, and if he entered a Jedi trance soon, could likely stay alive for some time without medical treatment. However, he was in absolutely no state to stand up to the Sith Lord's power, neither in the physical nor mental realms.

The Sith Lord rose to his feet slowly. His right knee trembled and threatened to buckle. Again, Caedus warped the Force into a numbing splint around the limb, allowing him to use it. With how much concentrated Force Caedus had called into his damaged extremity, it was entirely possible that the leg would be a warped, fried, and useless mess by the time this was all done. Until that moment, Caedus thought, he would do whatever was necessary to continue forward. If he could obtain knowledge of the Valley of the Jedi, his path to survival would instantly expand into a wide road paved with just rule and no end in view.

Kyle coughed and his eyes slowly opened. He looked up at Darth Caedus, and Caedus returned the gaze. Katarn's previous fury still burned, but it was beginning to be snuffed by the increasing return of reason. Kyle spoke, and his voice was thick and haggard.

"I know what you're thinking, Sith."

"Oh?" Caedus asked with mock interest, but the syllable was warped by a pained grunt as he took another step on his crippled leg.

"Yeah."

Master Katarn spat more blood, a few drops splattering against the toes of Caedus' military-issue boots. The Jedi Master coughed out a chuckle and managed a weak smile at the Sith.

"You're thinking of the Valley," Kyle continued. "_There he is, the only bastard in the galaxy with the keys to the treasure room, lying helpless on the floor._ It's a pretty easy sell." He paused once more to cough. "Yeah, if I were in your shoes, I would definitely use this moment to finally find out where that elusive little gem was."

Darth Caedus smiled curtly at the blood on his boots and the dying old man before him.

"Well done," Caedus said. "You know that I can walk on worlds long-since destroyed by time. I can crush entire squadrons from an armchair. Plucking the Valley's location from your dying mind would be a trifle. Despite what your order believes, my goals are righteous, and what I glean from the Valley will be used to maintain peace."

Kyle hacked up another laugh before responding, "Yeah, it won't be hard to maintain peace when everyone is brainblown and in chains."

More misguided scoffing. More ignorant blather. More impudent asides born of preposterous dogma. The sheer gall of Katarn to mock the Sith Lord after defeat continued to enrage Caedus, despite all Jedi he had fought previously showing similar conviction. Darth Caedus took a quick, furious breath and swiftly guided the end of his crimson blade to mere centimeters from Master Katarn's neck.

"You have lost," Caedus shouted. "Why can none of those in your foolish order accept defeat graciously? At the feet of a superior power, life escaping you, you all still spit childish defiance to your dying breath!"

Kyle said "Listen to yourself. Just listen. There is nothing smart or kind in your words. It's just... want and need and hate. You're no leader." Another cough, more strands of deep red stretching across the durasteel. "You're right, I'm dying. But I go knowing that every step you take will be more painful than the last, and if you manage to scurry away from this like the coward I know you are, you'll be doing it without the location of the Valley, and without your wife and child."

A choice selection of words. An attack for which there was little defense. Darth Caedus remained there, towering above Master Katarn, the lightsaber wavering at the bottom of Kyle's vision. Caedus' face twitched and contorted more with each breath. It was clear that the Sith Lord was not debating killing Master Katarn, but instead questioning something far more personal to the fallen Jedi.

Caedus slowly tilted his head back, his line of sight now ending upon an unremarkable patch of the hangar's far wall. He was finally noticing the presence of Tenel Ka somewhere in the battle. He could hear her voice. It was not a mere memory of his wife, but indeed Tenel Ka calling out to Caedus through the Force. The communication was simple, told in basic concepts and emotions like the limited palette of a simplistic painting. He had barely received the first hints of her deep sadness when he began to reply with assurances of his wisdom and insistent reminders of his love for her.

She was unmoved, her sadness now plainly more complex than he once thought. It was not just loss, but a lock of understanding. Images flashed in his mind. They were faces contorted in pain. The faces belonged to Jaina and Zekk. Then Tahiri. Then Kyp. These last few images were supplied by Caedus' own mind. He had no idea how to respond. It would take hours of warped truths to even begin to win back Tenel Ka. He tried anyway, but was immediately met with a seemingly solid wall of decisiveness. Tenel Ka would love him to her dying days, but she would not allow herself to be manipulated again.

He lashed out at her, projecting guilt. His messages were countered with swelling determination and pride. She was not just a Jedi, nor simply a wife and mother. Tenel Ka was the leader of the Hapans, and she was making it as clear as possible that her people refused to live in a Sith-controlled galaxy.

Many options came to mind. A particular petty stray thought would have consisted of him sending her the sensations of him bedding Tahiri after making her a full-time Sith. Another option would have him bringing up Allana and their mutual love. Something told him though that this would not have any success either. Tenel Ka had chosen.

He had lost her. Caedus fell to his knees. Pain rocketed up and exploded along his right leg, but he scarcely noticed it.

Oft was the night that Caedus would lay back in a simple chair in the observation deck above. He would observe the stars, finding connections between them such as loving families spread across worlds. Before, he was often unable to stop watching a horrific prophecy of the galaxy falling into endless war brought on by far less righteous Sith than himself. However, since his rise to power had begun, Caedus started to see the galaxy as a potential utopia. He was absolutely convinced that this galaxy, in the right hands, could be saved from itself. This image was always completed with the image of himself, Tenel Ka, and their beautiful daughter Allana eclipsed by the new star of a safe galaxy.

The star had now faded, and Caedus was quickly realizing that without his wife and child, his future reign wasn't any kind of utopia. His anger became almost entirely shapeless. Fury without form, a swiftly-shifting amoeba of fog and coalescing flame. Caedus could think of nothing but the vast amounts he had sacrificed for the masses of the stars he had once envisioned as a paradise.

It wasn't long before the swirling mass of impending violence had a target. The turbolift containing Luke and Ben had just reached the hangar's floor. Caedus turned toward the opening lift doors. Luke and Ben stepped out. The prodigal son of the Chosen One, and the heir to the Skywalker mantle. Caedus looked at Ben and saw that the boy was no longer a boy. The tears had come, the tears had gone, and Ben's childhood had ended with Tahiri's last breath.

Caedus accepted that. At this point, he accepted everything he saw. In his singular moment of purity within the dark focus of the Force, the universe had become a far simpler machine. It was all a series of problems, and it was long since time he should have begun addressing them with absolute authority.

The Sith Lord casually extended his left arm toward Luke and Ben. A point of light formed in the air where his hand would have once been. The light began red, but burned hot and shifted to a pure white. It soared through the hangar like a pulse. Luke and Ben dove simultaneously in opposite directions and rolled away. The point of light passed between them and struck the wall behind. The wall rippled like water, filled with the light of the Force projection, and flashed into the finest of dust.

Luke looked into Caedus. No longer did Luke see Jacen, nor did he see Darth Caedus. Caedus was a man. Powerful, but still a man. The thing that he saw at the other end of the hangar was inhuman in some way, monstrous. Luke could also see, just beyond the apparition of the Dark Side, Master Katarn struggling to his feet and attempting to move away. Caedus caught Luke's eye and turned to see Kyle alternating crawling and stumbling away. He brought his lightsaber down in a powerful killing strike. Katarn struggled to reactivate his lightsaber and bring it to bear in time. Kyle blocked the oncoming crimson light, but he groaned loudly under the strain.

Darth Caedus reached his left arm forward and Master Katarn went tumbling backwards into an unforgiving munitions crate. Luke turned to Ben with wide eyes and a torqued jaw and shouted for Ben to run. Ben looked to Caedus for only a second before rushing off to another corner of the vast hangar.

Then Luke looked back to Caedus. There was something in the weathered Master's eyes. It was a basic emotion, and Caedus could easily feel it. Fear. It was, however, surprising to sense it from the most legendary of modern Jedi.

"I am not afraid of you," Luke said, clearly able to sense Caedus' awareness. Luke's words were hollow, haunted, determination on the verge of losing all hope. "You're just a man sensitive in the Force. But in all the years I have fought, all the people I have watched fall..." He trailed off.

Caedus began to approach Luke, his lightsaber blade casually hanging low. Luke found his voice again.

"You represent the absolute lack of hope. To watch you so eager to continue the cycle of Sith rule and destruction is the first thing to test my faith in the Force since the Vong arrived. But then I remember, you and I have both lost much, and I have felt the power of the dark side. Yet here I stand, still a Jedi."

Lord Caedus slowly shook his head, still walking towards Luke, and said, "Your distinctions of Light and Dark are meaningless to me."

Caedus reached out and lightning filled the gap between them.


	30. Chapter 30 - The Last Command

Part 30 – The Last Command

Luke guided the oncoming lightning into the green blade of his lightsaber. The clash was luminous and the crackles echoed in the shaking hangar. Luke began stepping to his left, moving in a wide circle, his eyes constantly on Caedus. The Sith continued the output of ionized rage as long as he could sustain it, millimeters of cloth along his left arm slowly vaporizing. Luke continued his circle around Caedus, nearly to the same side as the wounded Jedi master Kyle Katarn.

Through the constant blue bloom of lightning, Luke caught a glimpse of Master Durron's body. Again, the temptation rose. It was familiar, but because it was so familiar, Luke did not find it very threatening. He knew exactly what the Dark Side looked like, and it would not take him again. It wouldn't, he promised himself.

The lightning stopped.

Luke kept his lightsaber up in a defensive posture as he slowly continued around toward Kyle. He couldn't tell what Caedus was doing. The Sith continued to stare at Luke, his face seemingly frozen. Then Luke felt it as well: a message in the Force. A plea. It was emphatic, but loving. It was unmistakably Tenel Ka.

Luke could tell it was intended for Jacen, but that Tenel Ka fully intended those around him, those that could, to hear it as well. One last request. He could feel her demeanor in the Force: torn between a deep-seated love and a more practical duty. It was a story told too many times to number, especially among Jedi. Luke himself had found himself on that particular rickety bridge more than once.

Jacen was responding, but Luke couldn't begin to feel his meanings through the Force. His nephew's abilities of stealth had been the first things to put Luke at unrest, but his love for Jacen hushed his concerns. Now, he was almost certain that the Sith Lord could disappear entirely while standing mere meters away. Skywalker had to remind himself again that regrets lead to despair, but the regrets seemed to be piling quite high over the last couple of years.

Caedus was actually responding well to Tenel Ka's plea, and for a glorious moment, she began to think that he would lay down his arms. She had conveyed an image of their daughter, then another of a tender moment of the two Jedi lovers sneaking out to watch the Hapan night sky. The Mother of the Hapans was not about to fall under the shadow of a Sith-ruled galaxy, but she was going to do everything in her power for this time to end with Jacen alive.

For that brief moment, she thought she had succeeded.

"Listen to her," Luke said, lowering his lightsaber.

Caedus twitched and blinked. Despite his gaze never leaving Master Skywalker, it seemed like this was the first time he had actually noticed the Jedi Master. Darth Caedus' robes, tattered and burned, shifted with each heavy breath. Luke felt the large wake Caedus left in the Force shrink. He looked into Caedus' eyes and saw thought returning.

Caedus hadn't written her off. He couldn't. With each touch in the Force from Tenel Ka, his anger was softening. Without the rage, his right leg gave out. The Sith Lord fell to his knee and the pain was impossible to quiet. The pain took audible form, and Caedus' scream bounced well in the hangar. Slowly leaning forward, he rested his ruined left arm on the floor and brought his face close to the floor. He screamed again.

Luke almost doubted his own sight. This was what they had all been hoping for. Caedus was crumbling, and Jacen was finally able to see that first piercing ray of perspective.

"No!" the Sith Lord shouted into the metal bulkhead. He slammed his lightsaber pommel into the floor, but the weapon did not give.

The Jedi Master believed that this was his moment, that the Force had placed him here to speak to Jacen. Luke deactivated his lightsaber.

"Jacen, you have not lost her yet. If she no longer loved you, she wouldn't speak out to you. She might not even be here. As you can see, that is not the case. There are people in this world who still love you."

Luke stepped closer as he continued, "As a child, you saved my life. In war, I saved yours. As a child, I wanted to protect you like a son. In war," Luke paused, feeling something from Jacen. It was faint, a distant echo. "In war, you were my brother."

Jacen looked up at Luke, his vision clouding. The Solo shook his head and looked into Luke through the Force. He didn't know what he was searching for. A vibrant memory flashed. It was close to the surface and speaking volumes to Luke at this very moment. Jacen caught only a glimpse of the image, but a glimpse was all that he needed. It was the funeral of Mara Jade Skywalker. They had both attended that procession. To Caedus, there was only one reason that Luke would be recalling such a memory right now: The Jedi had no intention of forgiving him.

They just wanted him stopped. They wanted to take back everything he had worked so hard to earn.

"No," Caedus repeated, this time calmer. He stood. "This isn't about forgiveness. This isn't about redemption. You believe that I'm evil, and that I must be stopped by any means. If that includes using my family, then so be it."

Luke stopped his progress toward Caedus and rose the hilt of his lightsaber once more.

Caedus went on, "This future that you all claim to be sure of, where I represent an endless series of conquerors: It could be very real. I could fall and the galaxy would just continue to destroy itself over and over again. However, that future will be brought about by you winning here, not me. With the right control, I would be the last leader the galaxy would need. No more war. No more senseless violence. With a single galaxy, a single military, and a single Force, I would be the last command."

Luke had lost him. Jacen was simply too afraid to lose control. Letting go was simply a canyon far too intimidating for him to leap.

Darth Caedus finally shrugged away his coat. He was now down to his basic black Jedi tunic. He tightened the grip in his lightsaber and felt his leg threatening to betray him again. Caedus tried to call upon the raw anger that had fueled him thus far, but he couldn't find it again. Something had changed. It was basic, yet imperceptible. Whatever this invisible disconnection was, it prevented Caedus from completely tapping into the Dark Side's true potential. He had lost the delicate balance of logic and fury.

Darth Caedus decided that it would not matter. He would survive. Whatever it took, he would not die here.

Attempting to seize the moment, Caedus activated his lightsaber and threw another ball of intense light toward Skywalker. Luke rolled right and the orb detonated dangerously close to the hangar's atmospheric shields. The Force technique's explosion was unsettling, instantly vaporizing a large sphere of anything without a sound. Kyle had described the Dark Jedi Jarec using such a technique during their race to the Valley of the Jedi. The Jedi Archives revealed that it was called, simply enough, "Destruction". Only those who had accepted what was known as the Dark Side completely could wield it, as it represented the pure antithesis to life.

Another collection of crackling blue energy shot towards him. Luke caught the lightning with his lightsaber and directed the beams into the ground. The Jedi Master rushed forward and sent a powerful Force wave towards Caedus. The Sith returned in kind and the Force collided upon itself, creating a transparent ripple in the air around the oncoming Jedi. Luke struck lightly with a continuous series of steady swings. His movements were textbook, a perfect form from which much could be learned.

Caedus was nearly relieved at the predictability. The attacks were very good, but without the emotion of Zekk or Kyle, the Sith Lord was sure he could handle Luke. He could handle him in good health, at least. As it stood, Caedus had been in desperate need of a bacta bath, not to mention a new hand, for some time now. Even Luke's telegraphed strikes were proving a challenge.

Luke's next strike was blocked close, and he felt his lightsaber forced upwards before Caedus' left arm was swiftly under the crossed blades. An invisible explosion slammed into Master Skywalker's lower sternum and knocked him back a couple of meters. As he tumbled to a standing knee, Luke noted that it hadn't been the "Destruction" technique. The Jedi Master was certain that Caedus didn't have the strength to muster the unique attack again any time soon.

What the Sith Lord could muster, Luke suddenly realized, was a fierce dagger into his mind. The Jedi Master steadied himself, planting his feet. He could feel Caedus probing further into his mind, forcing Luke to recall various sounds and images. Most of it was garbage, white noise, meaningless flashes too brief to be of significance. Every few pages as it were, Caedus would find a lithograph that instantly transported the Jedi to that moment. It was all there to see, nothing Caedus didn't already know.

Master Skywalker closed his eyes and breathed deep, asking the Force to assist in returning calm to his mind. The images slowed, and the focus to defend his mind returned. Caedus was quickly forced out of Luke's head. He realized that the invisible counter attack was too easy as Lord Caedus brought his lightsaber around in a wide slash. Luke brought his weapon up and reflexively spinning away. The Force guided his movements and Luke retained all of his limbs and organs, though there was a sizable and smoldering gash in his right shoulder.

The pain was fierce, but with the Force already coursing around him, it was easy enough to push the pain aside. Luke realized that he needed to get some distance between himself and the pulsing hangar shield behind him. The Jedi Master caught sight of Katarn again and rushed to his side. The Mercenary Jedi was in a bad way, pain radiating off of him through the Force like a generator.

Luke's words were quick, with the Sith Lord approaching. "Ben is in the opposite corner. Get to him and get off of this ship."

Master Katarn rose, grunting. Luke could sense Katarn using the Force heavily to keep himself mobile, but there was something to his presence. A shadow in the Force, an oil slick left in a ship's wake.

Kyle said, "Luke, we have to stop him now. You have a better chance with me here."

He noted something in Kyle's words. Luke knew that Kyle wanted truly wanted to fight at his side and stop Caedus, but his sentiment was growing dangerously personal. Luke grasped Kyle's shoulder and stared at him. Katarn saw that familiar flash in Skywalker's eyes. It told Kyle that Luke would not be convinced otherwise.

For all intents and purposes, Kyle Katarn was stronger than Luke. He had proven multiple times to be the better swordsman and more powerful in the physical aspects of the Force. To Kyle, however, there were always moments that revealed the leader and warrior that toppled endless Imperials and Vong beneath the dusty linen robes of the soft-spoken old moisture farmer. People often did not see nor expect this side to Luke, despite knowing of his very public accomplishments.

"Go, Kyle."

Katarn coughed and replied, "Luke, make sure it ends."

It was difficult for Luke to resist agreeing to the aggressive sentiment. Too many had been lost. Master Katarn used the last of his focus in the Force to run inhumanly quickly to the remaining ships and containers on the other side of the hangar. As Caedus turned to watch Kyle and Ben slip into the primary hall, the walls around him shook and roared. Everything jerked to a slight angle and did not right itself. The hangar's shield flickered but remained active.

A frantic voice came over the ship's comms. _"Secondary drive systems are down! I repeat, secondary drive systems are down! The _Anakin Solo_ will be entering Coruscant's atmosphere in approximately ten minutes. All remaining crew, abandon the ship immediately!"_

Both Caedus and Skywalker reflexively turned to see the speckled bronze glow of Coruscant through the open hangar. The Force didn't warn Luke in time, and the large container beside him was suddenly against him, pushing him through the air toward the large red wall of translucent energy. Skywalker pushed himself downwards into the unforgiving durasteel bulkhead. The container soared overhead and slammed into the shield, glowing and sparking crimson before shattering entirely. The contents, several racks of concussion missiles, fortunately had not been fueled nor armed.

Luke stood and readied his blade once more. He walked toward Caedus at a steady pace. The Sith Lord lacked the patience and, with his lightsaber across his chest and ready to strike, rushed the Jedi Master. Green energy clashed continuously with red. Multicolored smoke rose where their blades clashed, creating a trail as the two stepped this way and that, ever-attacking, ever-responding.

It was not a dance. Between Caedus' furious slashes and Luke's unwavering form, the conflict more resembled a violent storm. It was unlike any storm one would see on an inhabitable planet. This was the type of electromagnetic chaos that could only be created in the most complex of semi-stable planets, stars in the throes of metamorphosis, and two exceedingly powerful Force-users. Neither of them seemed to gain any ground with pure strength. Luke's strikes were heavy for their speed, but Caedus was easily turning their momentum into equally weighty attacks.

The gap between them closed. Each swing was shorter and much, much louder. Everything was seemingly caught in the haze of ionization. Caedus allowed one of Luke's swings to come dangerously close to his chest before blocking it. The Sith stepped around the two blades and brought his left elbow sharply into the side of Luke's head. Handing further control to the Force, Luke's body fell gracefully below Caedus' oncoming blade.

Skywalker rolled back and stood, shaking the pulsing tones from his ears. He rolled his shoulders back as Lord Caedus again rushed his uncle. Luke reached out and launched a tightly-honed pulse of the Force at the Sith's oncoming shoulder. Caedus stopped unsteadily before another focused blast struck his right arm. He turned to respond with a blast of Lightning, but a third invisible hammer crashed into his temple.

Caedus fell back, catching himself at the last second on his elbows. Luke stepped quickly toward the Sith. His nephew rolled right and leapt to his feet. Caedus immediately blocked Luke's swing and allowed the momentum to carry both blades down. They stayed locked for less than a second before Caedus reached in with his handless arm and shot electricity straight into Luke's wrists. Skywalker's lightsaber fell from his hands as he dove backwards, ending the fire in his veins.

Still on his back, Luke shook feeling back into his hands just in time to gasp the hilt of the oncoming lightsaber. Caedus stood above Luke, four hands wrestling for control of the blade burning the air centimeters from the Jedi Master's face. Caedus seemed to focus on the struggle, pushing fiercely, determined to win the simple contest of strength. Luke took a deep breath, drew the Force into his hands, and crushed the center of the lightsaber hilt. With an unsettling whine, the weapon lost power and the blade of red light vanished.

The momentum of Caedus brought him toward Luke. With the remaining Force-granted strength in his hands, he punched the Sith Lord across his jaw. Lord Caedus rolled right and pointed his left arm at Luke. Luke grabbed the arm and directed it upward just as lightning erupted from the open wrist. Caedus brought his knee up into Luke's stomach, forcing the Jedi to cough and release his arm. The Sith swiftly repeated the knee strike before rolling backwards. He quickly spotted Luke's lightsaber and summoned the hilt toward his outstretched arm.

Halfway to Caedus' awaiting open hand, the lightsaber's green blade reignited and picked up speed. In his attempt to grab it, the hilt passed through his grasp and his right hand filled with white hot fire. Screaming, the Sith Lord pulled his smoking hand away and turned to watch the lightsaber land firmly in a standing Skywalker's hands. Luke reached out and Caedus was hit hard by a Force wave, sending him to the floor once more.

The Jedi Master allowed himself a second to breathe before hustling over to the unsteady Sith. Luke directed his lightsaber's blade straight at the center of Caedus' chest, holding it centimeters away. Darth Caedus, unarmed, smoking and bleeding, stared at the green glow and caught his breath. Luke could feel Caedus' in the Force, sensing a conflict of control and fear. Caedus turned from the lightsaber blade to the hangar bay shield. Through it, he watched glowing circles and lines become enormous clusters of smaller circles and lines. They were approaching Coruscant.

Finally Darth Caedus turned to Luke. Luke saw countless emotions fighting behind his tired nephew's face. His hatred for those that stood in his way, his need to be proven right, and an increasing loneliness spun within the wounded Sith.

"I've won, you know," Caedus said with unsteady breath.

Luke did not question the statement, nor did he say anything in response other than to keep his lightsaber a breathe away from his nephew's sternum.

Caedus continued, "There are millions of people watching the skies right now. They're staring in horror at the explosions and death just beyond the clouds. Enormous chunks of spaceship are cratering in front lawns and schools. They will ask themselves, "Who brought all this destruction to our home?", and they will immediately know the answer: the Jedi and the Hapans."

The Jedi Master kept the Sith a blade-length, but he had trouble denying the words in his mind.

"You fought a fraction of the Alliance Navy, and the rest are on their way. With me dead, the galaxy will never know of the Sith title I took on. I will be remembered as having been the wall that held just long enough for the flanking cavalry to arrive." Caedus' jaw shook as he finished. "Thank you, Uncle."

Luke noticed that those last words didn't have the arrogance he expected. They sounded more honest than anything. The metal beneath Luke shook violently before tearing free of the hangar's frame and taking him off his feet. As he landed, Caedus fired a stream of lightning at the Jedi. The tendrils of energy crawled across Luke before a pulse sent him flying. Skywalker's shoulder blades were the first to hit the side of the parked gunship, immediately followed by his head. The tones returned tenfold and his vision became a misshapen watercolor painting.

Darth Caedus turned and rushed toward one of the remaining craft in the hangar, a standard-issue XJ5 X-Wing. He reached out to the ship in Force, finding and beginning the activation sequence. The canopy whined open. Caedus stumbled as his right leg gave out, but he willed the limb continue. With one last effort in the Force, the Sith Lord jumped into the open cockpit and took control of the fighter. The shields crackled to life, Caedus disengaged the ship's magnetic lock and was violently shaken as the X-Wing lifted up into the ceiling of the descending hangar. The craft's shield bounced it free and Caedus flew through the hangar's light field at full-throttle just as his canopy finished its air seal.

The sudden openness of his surroundings threatened to overwhelm him. Until this moment, he didn't quite have a grasp on the resulting chaos of this most recent battle over Coruscant. Looking back at the dying flagship named for his passed brother, he guessed that it had two minutes at most before it became a cluster of enormous fireballs.

Back on the _Anakin_, Luke was almost tempted to allow himself to burn in the atmosphere with the ship. He had failed, and it was entirely possible that Caedus' predictions were true. He felt a voice calling for him in the Force. It was his son. There were still reasons for Luke to live, so he called upon the Force to clear his head and steady his legs. An X-Wing was laying on the deck at an angle, only one of its landing struts still deployed. Its magnetic locking system was about to fail. He rushed to the ship and hurriedly span up its systems.

Luke could feel the heat of the outer atmosphere's friction with the larger ship around him. He shoved the throttle to its limit and ducked out of the hangar, immediately pulling up and around, allowing the glowing Star Destroyer to pass over his cockpit. The X-Wing's shields glowed from the intense heat. Luke guided the fighter further away from the planet and back into the enormous collection of debris that had been the battle. A quick scan of his radar revealed that there was another active X-Wing fighter near-by. Luke steered toward the blip and caught sight of Caedus' X-Wing just as it extended infinitely toward a point and entering hyperspace. He was gone.

Lacking any other ideas, Luke called out to Ben in the Force. His son responded with the image of a solar system with a familiar white and gray planet in the foreground. Luke shut off the fighter's Alliance tracking systems, punched in the hyperspace coordinates for the Hoth system, and was wrapped in tumbling blue light.


End file.
